Day to Day Life
by Sekihara Tae
Summary: One shot shortfics, featuring Cloud, Tifa, Denzel and Marlene. Some are in response to prompts from various communities, and others are just things that asked to be written. There will be fluff here.
1. Bake Sale Blues

**Title:** Bake Sale Blues  
**Fandom: ** FFVII  
**Characters:** Cloud, Tifa, and Denzel  
**Notes:** From the cloti forum, for the prompt "fork". Utensils seem to make me think of baking.

Tifa was in her element, managing to make cookies and lecture Cloud at the same time. His eyes followed the fork in her hand as she shook it at him for emphasis.

"I said no cookies, Cloud, and I meant it. These are for the bake sale at the elementary school."

"It was only one, and it was broken!"

"I don't care!" One hand still on her hip, she turned back to the perfectly round balls on the cookie sheet, and began making equally perfect and precise hatch marks on top with her fork. "You need to set a better example for Marlene and Denzel."

Cloud subsided at that, simply leaning on the counter and watching her work. A moment later Denzel came in at a run. "Tifa! I'm sorry, I forgot! Ms. Goodman said not to bring anything with peanuts in it. The Sanderson twins are allergic." Pausing only to give Cloud a quick hug -- the man hadn't been home earlier -- the little boy barreled back out of the kitchen, footsteps loud on the hardwood floor as he crossed the bar.

When Denzel's noise had faded, Cloud straightened and walked to the refrigerator. Tifa was still frozen in place from a mixture of shock and disappointment, when a fresh-baked, picture-perfect peanut butter cookie, decorated with a liberal dollop of chocolate sundae sauce, appeared in front of her mouth. Cloud nudged it against her lips and she obediently opened, biting into the soft confection as she slumped against him. They really were good -- especially with Cloud's addition of chocolate -- and she'd been almost finished baking, too. His arms wrapped around her while she chewed, and once she'd swallowed he spoke.

"Do we like the Sanderson twins?"

"Cloud!" She wanted to be appalled, but at that particular moment, frustrated and annoyed, she felt her lips twitch. Poor things. It wasn't the twins' fault Denzel had forgotten to tell her, or that they were allergic.

"I know, I'm kidding." Truthfully, he felt sorry for the little tow-headed boys. Tifa's peanut butter cookies were his favorite. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he fished his keys out of his pocket. "Tell me what you need and I'll get it from the store. Just save some of these for me."

When he returned with chocolate chips and oatmeal, he was rewarded with an overflowing plate, and a kiss still sweet from the sundae sauce.


	2. Movie Night

**Title:** Movie Night  
**Fandom: ** FFVII  
**Characters:** Cloud, Tifa, Denzel and Marlene  
**Notes:** This wasn't what I was trying to write. Watching a movie was supposed to be a minor plot point -- just something for them to do while hanging around at home -- and it became a tangental thing that wanted to grow. So I yanked it out and put it here instead. I wish there were more of it, but... this is it.

Every week on their day off, Cloud and Tifa made an effort to spend time with Denzel and Marlene. Often they went on little outings: to the Gold Saucer, or Kalm, or even just to Healin where they could at least enjoy being outdoors around green and growing things. Sometimes, though, they spent time around the house, playing games or watching movies. Even if they did go out, it was almost habit to gather in the living room after dinner for some quiet time together, and the kids had taken to calling it 'Movie Night'. While not as exciting as a visit to the chocobo farm, it had an appeal all its own. Gathered together on the sofa, there would be popcorn and commentary, laughter and hugs and tickles to remind all of them that their family was whole and solid.

"Alright," Cloud said, handing each of the children some gil, "you can pick one movie apiece. If you're back in half an hour, you can keep the change as pocket money." Nodding, they scampered out the door, hand in hand. If they followed instructions they'd be back well before dark, and Tifa had already called the video store so the owner would know to keep an eye out. Denzel especially was very independent, and had roamed all over both Edge and Midgar; but they felt better keeping tabs.

Half an hour later the kids were back, excited about their finds, and chattering away over dinner. When the meal was finished and the dishes put away, it was time for the main event of the evening.

As was to be expected, Marlene had chosen something with magic and fairies, while Denzel's selection featured guns and car chases. At Tifa's suggestion, they willingly played rock-paper-scissors to determine whether they would watch _Foostforth's Island_ or_ Duke of Overkill_ first. _Duke of Overkill_ won, and as Denzel did his victory dance and Marlene tickled him in revenge, Cloud popped the disk in the player.

"What's this about, Denzel?" Tifa asked, making herself comfortable in the middle of the sofa. Marlene snuggled down on her right side, while Cloud stretched out on her left, with Denzel beside him.

"Zeal Squalltalon, a planetary explorer fighting against a corrupt government. He's on the run while searching for an artifact to save mankind." Denzel's tone made it clear he thought that was the most exciting plot for a movie, _ever_.

"Sounds vaguely familiar," Cloud mumbled, just loud enough for Tifa to hear him, and she elbowed him sharply in rebuke, although her lips were twitching with humor.

Despite the veiled references to Shinra (as the head of the corrupt government) and Cloud (as the planetary explorer), the movie didn't otherwise resemble their story in any way, and made for light (if somewhat ridiculous) entertainment. They all agreed that the explorer would have been better off if he'd used a sword instead of a gun, and that he should have let his childhood friend – Flora Lightspirit – come with him for the final confrontation.

Marlene was particularly emphatic about it. "Take Flora with you, Zeal!" she yelled at the screen. "How's she supposed to kiss you if you leave her behind?!"

"This is a_ guy_ film, Marlene," Denzel retorted, "there won't be any girly kissing stuff."

Tifa, shaking with silent giggles, would have been alright if Cloud hadn't then decided to very solemnly explain that kissing was, in fact, generally acceptable after the hero triumphs over the villain, even in guy films. They had to rewind to watch the climactic battle, because she'd been laughing so hard she missed it.

When _Duke of Overkill _had finished, they took a small break. Denzel and Marlene raced each other to the bathroom, while Cloud poured drinks and Tifa made popcorn. When they resettled on the sofa – the kids switching sides – it was time for Marlene's choice of movie. Hers took place on a mysterious island located somewhere south of Mideel. Populated by amazing animals and magical beings, it could only be found under special circumstances.

Marlene was in her element, and absolutely delighted. Denzel was grudgingly entertained. Tifa enjoyed the nostalgic look at childhood.

Cloud, as usual, fell asleep with Tifa and Marlene using him as a pillow.


	3. In Grain Alcohol is Truth

**Title:** In Grain Alcohol is Truth  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating: ** K  
**Notes: ** For the ffvii_het_meme on LJ. There were two requests for a drunken Cloud... and this is what came out when I tried to write him that way. He's really more tipsy -- the 'euphoric' stage on the BAC chart -- than out-right drunk.

It went without saying that Cloud could drink any of them under the table, and still be perfectly sober. The night Tifa and Barret got half-drunk on Corel wine, Cloud had been more affected by the company and the atmosphere than by the wine itself. His mako-fueled metabolism burnt alcohol like it was dry grass in a summer drought, and not even Barret's size and muscle mass were enough to compensate.

What Tifa had never expected was for Yuffie to talk him into actually _doing_ it. Especially not consecutively. While part of her wanted to know how the ninja had done it – being able to talk Cloud into circumventing his good sense and do something he_ knew _was stupid? Definitely a skill worth learning – another was less than pleased to have three of her friends passed out in her bar.

Although... getting to spend time with a most definitely, and adorably, drunk Cloud made up for the noise, and the mess, and even the tremendous amount of alcohol they had consumed.

Apparently even he had a saturation point. 'Tipsy' was equal to the number of shots it took to match first Yuffie, then Barret, and then Cid, drink for drink over a span of a few hours, until the other three fell into a happy stupor, one after the other.

Reeve had long since left, taking Cait with him. Vincent and Nanaki had withdrawn into a corner, unwilling to participate in the obvious folly happening at the bar. Yuffie was curled up asleep on the long bench that ran the length of the room, while Barret had found his way upstairs to collapse in Cloud's bed. Cid was in the corner opposite his sober companions, asleep sitting up.

Which left Tifa and Cloud in relative privacy. He watched her with soft, attentive eyes while she washed the small army of shot glasses he'd emptied, a small but noticeably happy smile on his face.

"You're very pretty, Tifa," he told her suddenly, and if his voice was pitched in its usual range, it had still lost most of its hesitance. "You've always been pretty," he continued, when she blushed but continued working without responding, "even when you were eight years old, and wore frilly dresses." His tone conveyed what his nine year old self had thought of frilly dresses, and it wasn't positive. There was a pause, and out of the corner of her eye she could see him tilting his head and giving her a speculative glance. "Why don't you wear frilly dresses anymore, Tifa?"

Was his tone wistful?

"It would be hard to run after Denzel and Marlene," _and you_, she silently added, "in a dress, Cloud."

"Would it?" he sounded utterly astonished. "But... you wore a skirt before," he pointed out, as if she'd forgotten, "when we fought Sephiroth _last _time. Remember?" Tifa nodded, but Cloud's eyes were half-closed and he wasn't paying much attention to anything outside whatever was going on in his head. "A _short_ skirt. It made your legs look like they went on _forever_, and I had to be careful not to look whenever–"

"Cloud!"

The swordsman blinked as his chain of thought was interrupted. "What?"

Hands on hips, fighting to keep her lips from twitching into a smile, she gave him a stern look. "Did you look up my skirt?"

Sober, he would probably have blushed, and denied it. Drunk, he gave her a look that simultaneously managed to proclaim that she'd asked a stupid question – because he was _male_, thank you -- while also conveying his suspicion that it was a _trick_ question. "...yes?"

She couldn't help it, and burst into giggles. Pleased by her reaction, he smiled a bit wider as well. "I think you should wear a dress again," he told her earnestly, when her laughter had faded. His considering expression was back, and he nodded to himself, as if he'd come to some important decision. "I'll take you somewhere special so you can."

Tifa stilled. Was that... almost... a date? "Really?" she winced internally at the longing that one word betrayed.

Oblivious, Cloud simply nodded. "Sure."

Shaking her head a bit, she reached out to cup his face in her hands. "Oh, Cloud. What am I going to do with you?" His blue eyes widened, then blinked, and darkened perceptibly as an inkling filtered into his fuzzy mind. "Don't answer that," she told him, voice teasing as she turned to fill a glass with water and set it in front of him.

"Ok." There was a pause while he examined the glass, turning it in circles. "Why not?"

"Drink that," she instructed firmly, and watched as he obediently drained it down before refilling it and nodding at him to repeat the procedure. "Because you might regret it tomorrow, when you're not so... happy."

The third time she filled the glass he grimaced, and pushed it away. She pushed it right back. "I'm not drunk, Tifa. I don't _get_ drunk."

"I didn't say you were. I said you were happy, and you _are_. But since you mention it, you are also very definitely drunk." He frowned, clearly disbelieving, and she felt an impish impulse to tease him, just a little. "Alright, I'll prove it to you. Close your eyes."

His brows rose and fell in confusion, but he did as she asked.

"Now. I'm going to say a word, and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your head." One eye opened to give her a look, and she stared until he closed it again. "Barret?"

"Loud."

That was certainly no surprise. "Nanaki?"

"Friend."

Hmmm. She would've said flame, but Cloud – who had been subject to labels all his life – _would_ avoid fixating on others due to their differences. "Vincent?"

"Vampire."

Or maybe not. She struggled not to giggle. "You wouldn't have said that if you were sober."

"Would so." But the corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile, giving truth to the lie.

"Yuffie?"

"Trouble. _Lots_ of trouble."

Tifa did allow a small laugh to escape at that. "Bar?"

"Home."

Oh. _OH. _ "Denzel?"

"Little man."

And he was, always trying so hard to be brave and helpful. "Marlene?"

"Panda."

She still didn't understand that nickname. "Water?"

"No."

Very definite and emphatic, there. "Fenrir?"

"Freedom."

She could understand how that would be important to him. "Pretty?"

"Tifa."

Well... he had said it earlier. "Patient?"

"Tifa."

That gave her pause. Would it be fishing for compliments...? "Sweet?"

"Tifa."

He'd smirked that time. So maybe it was fishing. Who cared? She thought for a moment, then smiled to herself. "Kiss?"

"Tifa."

He hadn't even hesitated, nor was he blushing. That was all her. Cloud had actually settled back into his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, giving every appearance of being in control and enjoying himself. Swallowing, she decided to go for broke. "Tifa?"

For the first time, there was hesitance, Cloud opening and closing his mouth twice before finally answering.

"Want."

Just one word, whispered in a voice dark and husky and full of so much untapped emotion that Tifa gasped. At the sound, his eyes opened to focus on her face, their expression more than matching his tone: deep blue and glowing with hunger and passion and longing. "That... that's not the first thing you thought of." The words were challenging, but their timbre was soft, curious, and hopeful.

His answering smile was tender yet wry. "No, but even if I _am_ drunk, I'm not far gone enough to tell you what did." Reaching out, he took her hand and drew her around to his side of the bar. "Any other questions, Miss Curious?" Obviously, now that he'd stopped imbibing, his system was making quick work of filtering the alcohol out of his blood.

Already wrapped in his embrace, she had no need to ask for a hug. "Will you tell me some other time?" she asked instead.

He chuckled. "Next time I'm drunk, feel free to try again."

A few months later she did, and flushed with pleasure at his response, although by that time she'd long suspected the answer.


	4. Keeper

**Title: ** Keeper  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa, Denzel and Marlene  
**Rating:** K+  
**Summary:** There are some times when a woman needs to be pampered.  
**Note: ** This is from a prompt asking for pampering. I had two ideas: this one, and the one I plan to submit officially. In my personal fic timeline, this takes place maybe two weeks after "House Rules".

Cloud frowned at the clock as he lingered over his coffee, the kids discussing their hopes for the day in the background as they ate their cereal. It was almost ten, and Tifa still hadn't come down for breakfast. While they both were making a habit of sleeping in a bit on family days (getting up at eight instead of six), she'd yet to come down later than nine. Setting his cup aside on the counter behind him, he straightened from his slouch and headed upstairs to see what was keeping her, pausing only to admonish Marlene to leave the sugar bowl alone, and to remind Denzel to eat his fruit.

The bathroom was empty and Tifa's door still shut. Cloud knocked softly and waited, entering after receiving only a faint moan in reply. She was curled into a ball in the middle of her bed, blankets bundled around her in a tight cocoon, and she ignored him when he sat down beside her. Her light, sweet fragrance permeated the room, twining with another – though still faint – musky scent to give him a good idea of what was wrong. Easing the comforter away from her face, he gently brushed her hair back, taking in the pinched, uncomfortable expression she wore. Moaning again she shifted, burrowing back under the covers and inching closer to him at the same time, drawn to the heat of his body. Pressing a kiss to her head he tucked her blankets more firmly around her, and promised he'd be back in a few minutes.

Tifa definitely wasn't feeling up to an outing to Cosmo Canyon as originally planned. Pondering what he could suggest instead, he started running a bath, turning the water on as hot as was comfortable for him, and then easing it down a bit for her. After hesitating over it for a minute, he dumped in some of Marlene's bubble bath, too.

The kids had finished eating and were waiting for him in the bar, eager for the day's promised adventure.

"Where's Tifa?" Marlene asked, looking up from her drawing of Nanaki when Cloud walked in the room alone.

"She's still sleeping," he answered. "I don't think she's feeling well, so we're going to have to wait and visit Cosmo Canyon another time."

"Is she sick?" Denzel's tone and expression were worried, the idea of anyone being ill while geostigma was still fresh in their memory was deeply disturbing.

_How do I explain this?_ Cloud thought, glancing back and forth between the two concerned little faces. "She'll be fine," he hastened to assure them. "Her stomach is just a bit upset, and she'd feel more comfortable staying home today." It was true, if drastically over simplified, and seemed to satisfy them.

"What are we going to do instead, then?" Marlene asked, her eyes solemn and curious.

"Yeah, we're still going to spend the day together, right Cloud?" Denzel asked, blue gaze practically begging him to say yes.

Smiling, the adult reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "If you want. I think we'll just have a quiet day here at home." It was his way of saying he'd be around if either child needed him, or wanted his company. "For starters, though, I'm going to check on Tifa again, and then run out to pick up a few things. Would you two like to come?" His errands would take longer, as they would walk rather than use Fenrir, but he didn't really mind.

"Yes!" Their answer was an emphatic chorus, faces wreathed in smiles. Cloud was struck, yet again, by the notion that he must be doing something wrong for the kids to jump at the chance to go shopping with him, but unanimously opt to stay home when Tifa made the same offer. After giving them instructions to put on their shoes and jackets, he jogged back upstairs to check the tub, and try to wheedle Tifa out of bed.

She hadn't moved since he left her, except possibly to curl herself even tighter. Approaching the bed, he again pulled the covers back, and let his voice turn coaxing. "Tifa? You really need to get up now, sweetheart." There was something about her in a vulnerable state that let that word slip from his tongue with remarkable ease. "I've run you a hot bath. It should help with the pain, and then you can eat something and take some pills." Her brown eyes were dark with discomfort and fuzzy with confusion as she stared at him, but her mind was still too tired to make sense of her own questions. "Come on," he urged, shoving the blankets toward the foot of the bed and picking her up in his arms.

He carried her into the bathroom, setting her on her feet and leaving her to get undressed on her own while he went to fetch something for her to wear. He returned with underwear, loose drawstring pants, a dark colored tee, and a flannel shirt she'd purchased for him and he'd worn once. A pair of thick, fuzzy socks wobbled back and forth on top of the rest. His knock on the bathroom door was answered with the gentle sound of water splashing and a soft, "Come in."

She was reclining in the tub, her hair piled atop her head and bubbles up to her chin. The pinched expression was fading, but her eyes were still somewhat confused as she watched him place the stack of clothes on the counter.

"I told the kids you weren't feeling well, and we'd be staying in," he explained, turning back to the door, pausing on his way out with one hand on the knob. "We're going to run to the shops and pick up something I can fix for lunch and dinner." The kids were easy: although he was no chef, he could keep them happy with burgers or hot dogs. Tifa was a bit more finicky, and usually didn't have much appetite at this time, anyway. He'd have to find something more tempting.

She nodded, and he was already in the hallway, door almost closed, when she called him back. Craning his head around the door he looked at her questioningly.

"How did you know?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at the tub, herself, and the clothing.

Raising one eyebrow, he considered her for a moment, then slipped back into the room and closed the door behind him. "Tifa..." one hand rubbed the back of his head as he leaned back against the counter. The explanation when it came was blunt yet hesitant at the same time, and perhaps a bit nervous, too. "I traveled all over the planet with three women for _months_." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes widen, and a hint of pink touch her cheeks. "I may not comment on a lot of things, but it wasn't difficult to notice there were times when the three of you would insist on inns with hot water and bathing facilities, or became even more fond of chocolate than usual." The blush had darkened to rose, and she was sinking deeper in the tub as he spoke. "Although you each had moments when you insisted we stop for them, Aerith in particular became fond of pain killers, probably because she wasn't as athletic as you or Yuffie. It was also usually best to just get out of your way and let you three take care of the monsters, as it helped your moods considerably."

By the time he'd finished, his arms were crossed comfortably across his chest, and a teasing twinkle had crept into his eyes. Tifa had sunk until only her eyes and the tip of her nose were visible above the bubbles, and her expression was approaching mortified. "You knew?" she demanded in a whisper. Cloud nodded. "Did all of you know?"

He shrugged. "Nanaki probably knew, and Barret may have noticed. I doubt Cid paid enough attention, and Vincent wouldn't have cared." Smiling comfortingly, he moved to kneel by the tub and brush her bangs away from her forehead. "Is it really that bad? It's natural and healthy, right?"

She grudgingly agreed, although her tone was still somewhat sullen when she answered. "Yes, but it's somehow embarrassing that you could tell, just the same."

Arms folded on the side of the tub, he rested his chin on them and tilted his head slightly. "If it helps any, I also noticed that Cid went through a pack and a half of cigarettes a day, and that Barret was particularly hard to get along with after eating chili." Those observations earned him a laugh and a light smack on the arm, which he returned with a slight grin of his own. Tifa still watched him with narrowed eyes as he stood.

"Cloud?"

"Hmm?" his response came as he wiped water and bubbles off his hands and arms.

"I haven't asked for chocolate, pain killers, or a hot bath, and I haven't lost my temper at any monsters lately. But you still knew." He stilled, his back turned toward her but his face a hazy reflection in the steam covered mirror. "How?"

He said nothing for a long moment, then gave an extended sigh. "The same way Nanaki knew when we were traveling." He turned to face her, and elaborated when he met her confused gaze. "SOLDIER senses, Tifa." Still she continued to stare, brows drawn together in puzzlement, and he sighed again, reaching up to tap his nose.

Although delayed, her reaction was both severe and comical. Red as a tomato, she bolted upright in the tub, hands clenched to her chest and expression shocked. "You can smell it?!" she demanded in a near shout, "I _smell_?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he shook his head. "Your scent changes all the time," he explained. "The same is true for everyone else... well, adults, anyway." His smile was wry. "I wasn't the best student, but even I remember being taught about pheromones." Subsiding, Tifa nodded and slipped back under the bubbles. "I guess having enhanced senses means I'm just a bit more aware of them." He moved closer to the tub, until he could look directly down at her. "You always smell good to me," he assured her earnestly. "Light and sweet and welcoming, even inviting." A few weeks before, when his patience with moving forward slowly had abruptly snapped, her scent had been more than inviting, it had been heady. He wasn't sure telling her was entirely a good idea right now, though. "Any change is very faint. Only someone like Nanaki or myself would ever notice."

With those blue eyes watching her so carefully, and his words and tone so sincere, Tifa relaxed. "Okay." That one word was acceptance and understanding, and he visibly relaxed when he heard it.

"Good." Reaching for the doorknob he nodded, just once, and slipped outside again. "We'll be back soon!" His words, though muffled, carried through the door along with his quiet footsteps down the hall, and Tifa smiled.

An hour later, wrapped from head to toe in comfort clothes, and feeling much more human, she padded into the kitchen. Cloud was unloading groceries, and she could hear the kids chattering in the living room. Although she wasn't hungry, she knew she needed to eat, and Cloud had apparently anticipated her lack of interest. A large double-chocolate muffin and a steaming cup of coffee – the fancy flavored kind, from the shop a few blocks away – were waiting on the table. Murmuring her thanks as she slipped past him, she sat and let the coffee and chocolate convince her that things were right with the world. When she was halfway through the muffin, a bottle of pain pills – the brand she'd favored for years – appeared by her plate.

For all that he could frustrate her no end, there were times when Cloud really was impossibly sweet.

After she finished eating, she curled up on the couch with a book, while Denzel and Marlene persuaded Cloud to play Turks and robbers with them. Of course, Cloud ended up being the robber. Snuggling under a blanket, she set her book aside and let the sound of the kids' delighted laughter and surprised squeals lull her into a light doze. When the children grew bored with that game and moved on to another, Cloud joined her on the couch, shifting her head to his shoulder as he settled at the end of the sofa. She fell asleep to the muted sound of the television, and the feel of his hand stroking through her hair.

Around two o'clock the kids began clamoring for lunch, and Tifa was surprised to find that she was a bit hungry, too. Joining them in the kitchen, she was once again touched by how much attention Cloud paid to the little things, without ever once letting on he'd even noticed. While he and the kids ate hotdogs and chips, she had baked macaroni and cheese: one of the specialties at her favorite deli. Reheated in the microwave it was hot and rich, the bits of ham sprinkled throughout adding the salty-savory taste she craved. When Denzel and Marlene finished, and Cloud brought out fudge brownies, she stopped fighting the soppy grin that wanted to take over her face, and leaned over to kiss him. The tips of his ears turned pink in reaction, flushed and quietly pleased to have made her happy.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed much the same way. Tifa and Marlene watched a sappily romantic movie together, while Cloud – reclining on the opposite end of the couch, with his feet almost in Marlene's lap – pretended to doze when he wasn't making unsolicited comments. After particularly snarky remarks, both girls would attack those bare feet, and although Tifa knew he wasn't _really _ticklish, Cloud always responded as if he were. Denzel, when not participating in the tickle fights, sat propped against the sofa, flipping through a stack of motorcycle magazines Cloud had brought in from the garage. Occasionally he would hold a picture or article up for inspection, and the older man always had a word or two to say in response. By the time he was old enough to drive one, Tifa suspected the little boy would be even more enamored of the two-wheeled monsters than his idol.

Thanks to her quiet, spiky-haired boyfriend, (and didn't that give her a little thrill whenever she thought it) the day was far more relaxing and comfortable than she'd had any right to expect when she woke up that morning.

So, of course, the pains came back as soon as she tried to go to bed. Whether it was that the sheets were cold and gave her a chill, or the pills had finally worn off, she tossed and turned uncomfortably for what felt like forever, long after the kids had been tucked in, and Cloud had kissed her goodnight. Grumpy and irritable, her good mood evaporated as if it had never been, she dug the hot water bottle out from under the bathroom counter, and went to heat the kettle.

Downstairs, she found that Cloud was still up, stretched out on his back on the sofa, and reading one of the magazines Denzel had left scattered around. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and she had no idea what picture she must have made, but he clucked sympathetically and held out his hand, the other patting the sofa.

Hair mussed and expression pouty, the hot water bottle dangling from her hand, Cloud thought Tifa was both adorable and pathetic. "Pain killers wear off?" he asked, as she plopped despondently down on the edge of the couch beside him. She shrugged and nodded mutely, then scooted backward to press closer. Remembering how she'd done the same thing that morning, he tugged her down on top of him, turning her onto her stomach and shifting until her legs rested between his. The position snugged her hips in the cradle of his groin and thighs, and she moaned as his body heat settled into her aching frame.

Cloud was always warm, slightly feverish to the touch, from the mako in his system. Relaxing against him felt fantastic. She'd never use a hot water bottle again, not if she could have _this_. When his palms came to rest at the small of her back, fingers moving in a slow massage, she whimpered with relief and went completely boneless. Which only allowed more of his heat to sink into her, further soothing her discomfort. Without thinking, as she wriggled to wrap her arms around his waist, she sighed into his shirtfront. "Can I keep you?"

His chest rumbled beneath her cheek as he chuckled, but his voice was husky and laden with emotion when he answered. "I think you'd better, because I'm not going anywhere." Tifa smiled, already more than half asleep when she felt the blanket she'd used earlier in the day being pulled over her legs.

They were still curled together that way when the kids came down for breakfast the next morning, Cloud's head on the arm of the couch, and hers over his heart.

* * *

So... I wanted Cloud to know without Tifa having to say, "Look, it's a girl thing and I feel like hell!" And if she'd been stomping around the house, that would've been easy for him to figure out. But then I'd miss the scene in the bedroom where he's so sweet, and the one where he runs a bath. Then I thought maybe those enhanced senses would tell him something. And I found articles saying that at least two different studies show that men notice a difference in the way a woman smells during different times of the month. So... there you go.


	5. Spoiled

**Title:** Spoiled  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating:** T (characters talking about sex, but not in any detail)  
**Notes**: For a request on the ffvii_het_meme for a story involving books. This is borderline crack, and would probably have crossed the border never to return except Cloud had a bit of an anxiety attack in the middle, and that sobers things.

An answering smile teased the corner of Cloud's mouth as he heard Tifa giggle. He was at his desk, going over receipts and expenses, and she was curled up on the bed with a book, keeping him company. For the most part she'd been quiet, but over the last few minutes she'd been making soft sounds of amusement at seemingly random intervals. When she gave up and burst out into open laughter, his curiosity got the better of him.

"What's so funny?"

Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks pink. "This book Yuffie insisted I had to read." The nosy little ninja had asked for details about their sex life, and when Tifa wouldn't give them to her, she assumed it was because they didn't _have_ one. Her solution had been to force a handful of lurid romances on the exasperated bartender, telling her they were for 'inspiration'.

From what she'd read so far, Tifa felt she should be the one giving tips to the author.

Cloud tilted his head to read the title, and she obligingly moved her fingers out of the way. The cover featured a dark-haired muscle man wielding a glowing sword in his right hand. His left arm was wrapped around a tiny, auburn-haired woman with too much chest and not enough blouse. Cloud's lips twitched and he arched his eyebrows. "Yuffie thinks _Materia Blade of Unbridled Passion _is a must-read?"

The question, posed in that bland tone of his, prompted Tifa to fall into another fit of giggles. "I don't know if she thinks it's a must-read in general, or just for me. She suggested it might be... educational."

"Educational?" Cloud's tone was skeptical, but he really wasn't paying all that much attention. He'd turned back to the mess of papers on his desk, and was absorbed in figures and calculations.

"Yeah. She thought it might give me some ideas." Tifa mentally slapped her forehead for not shutting up sooner, and waited somewhat anxiously to see if he'd press for more details. _Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask._

"Ideas?" he prompted, scribbling down numbers.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her fidget, blush growing, before blowing her bangs out of her face with an abrupt, uncomfortable huff. "For things to do in bed. She thinks it'll give me ideas for different ways we can... have sex."

Cloud paused for a fraction of a second, then continued writing. "Oh."

_That's it? That's all he's going to say? _ Tifa peered at his silhouette, and was fairly certain he was frowning. She'd thought he would tease her. "Cloud?"

"Yeah?"

All of the previous humor in his voice had vanished, his attention drawn inward, no longer focused on her or the papers in front of him. Concerned, she sat up and reached over to put her hand on his knee. His eyes immediately shifted to her face, and she could read worry there. "What are you thinking, Cloud Strife?"

He stared at her, expression carefully blank. There were so many ways he could answer that question: _I'm thinking that Yuffie is far too interested in our sex life. I'm wondering why she thinks you need pointers on the subject. I'm worried there's something you need, that I'm not giving you. I'm afraid that you're unhappy. _ "What are _you_ thinking? You're the one reading the book."

She narrowed her eyes at him, worrying her bottom lip, then sighed and flopped back down on the bed, accepting – for the moment – that he wasn't going to answer her. "I think the author is confused, and that Yuffie probably is, too."

He relaxed a bit at her answer, and turned to face her, one arm propped on the back of the chair, the other hand still resting on the desk, pen loosely held in his fingers. "How so?"

"First, the hero hardly touches the heroine except to remove her clothes. I guess that's because when he did touch her, to hold her hand, she practically had a fit of ecstasy right on the spot." Holding hands with the right person was nice, but she doubted anyone had ever climaxed from it. "Then when they, um...you know... do it, she's absolutely thrilled, and carries on at length about how great he feels inside, even though she's a virgin and he's not doing it _right_."

The tiniest glimmer of humor had rekindled in the depths of his eyes. "When they do it?" he asked, slightly teasing.

She groaned, and hid behind the open paperback. "Shush, Cloud!" her voice was muffled, but firm. "You know what I mean."

Blond spikes cocked slowly to the side while he considered. "Do I?"

One brown eye peeped out from behind the cover. "Yes." Tifa sighed, and shook her head back and forth on the pillow, shifting to hold the book open with a thumb as she propped herself up on an elbow. "I guess it was a good thing that she was so happy about him holding her hand, because when they actually had _sex_ it was over almost before it started, and the guy fell asleep immediate– _what_?"

Cloud's head was bowed and he was watching her from behind drowsy lids with a blatantly pleased and self-satisfied expression. He was also smiling, apparently no longer concerned with whatever had him worried before. "I think maybe your book has that aspect right, and you have it wrong."

She blinked, then sat up to stare at him. "Cloud," she said slowly, as if concerned he was having memory issues, "I know how long sex lasts." Her tone made it clear that he should _also _know this, as it was an activity they did_ together_. When his smile only grew she frowned. "How can you possibly think I don't know what I'm talking about?" she asked. "The people in this book," and she shook it at him for emphasis, "are doing it _wrong_." Cloud made love to her for _hours_, and she was always considerably happier than the heroine from her novel when he finished.

"You, Tifa Lockhart," he answered, reaching out to press his pointer finger to the tip of her nose teasingly, "are _spoiled_." Which was the exact opposite of what he'd feared. Whatever was going on in Yuffie's head to make her think Tifa needed bedroom advice, she was obviously under the wrong impression.

Tifa's jaw dropped. "I am not!"

Ignoring her, Cloud turned to the stack of books on the floor in the corner and pulled out a rather ill-used booklet which he tossed in her lap. It was a recruitment pamphlet, emblazoned with the Shin-Ra logo and the title: _What It Means to be SOLDIER_. "There's an entire section on what kind of changes recruits should expect following the treatments," he told her, once more pouring over the list of expenses for Strife Delivery Service. "It may help clear up some misconceptions."

"Cloud!" her voice was a strained squeak.

"What?" his was all innocence. "I thought you'd find it informative. You can lend it to Yuffie, later, if you'd like."

* * *

This started out as a joke, but a bit of seriousness snuck in (sorry).

Romance novels really are full of misconceptions and stereotypes about sex. And I thought: what if Tifa had it backwards? A lot of the stereotypes are things that -- I admit -- are fun to write Cloud doing (that's probably why they're stereotypes in the first place: they're fun). He's also supposed to be enhanced, so we think nothing of him lasting forever and being able to go again in the blink of an eye. So... what if Tifa thought that was the norm? Then she would have the opposite reaction to more "realistic" sex scenes, where the guy doesn't last, or things aren't perfect from the get-go.


	6. Binary System

**Title: **Binary System  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating:** K  
**Summary: **When it comes to Cloud, Tifa has a pull all her own.

His memories were fuzzy, but Cloud thought he'd been maybe seven or eight – at the most – when Tifa had first caught his attention. The pretty little girl next door, with her long hair and warm eyes and easy smile. She had been popular, while he had not, but that wasn't what had drawn him. Her father had been big and important and larger than life, but that wasn't what had fascinated him. It had been the fact that she always seemed so completely _happy_, that had enthralled him. He'd wanted some of that joy for himself.

Some of the adults in town might have said she was spoiled. Cloud hadn't cared: if it would have made her smile at him, notice him, he would have spoiled her himself. Given her all the riches his little eight year old heart had to offer.

Small and shy, rarely speaking – and clever and sarcastic when he did – he hadn't fit in well with the other children. He'd tried to pretend it didn't bother him: that he didn't want to be included in their games, that they were silly and childish and he was better than that. His adoration of Tifa had revealed the lie for what it was. Her smiles and laughter had drawn him in, tethering him at the outermost edge of her sphere of friends. As if she were the sun, and he a comet or drifting satellite, captured by her gravitational pull. From that point on, he'd been unwilling and unable to break free.

Only once in his entire life had he ever knowingly, of his own volition, tried.

When he'd gone to join SOLDIER, her pull had remained strong. She'd been the impetus, the force that started him moving, the stationary point around which all his hopes revolved

When he was confused and recovering from Hojo's experiments, he'd still gravitated toward her. She'd helped him find his purpose, and then – later – helped him find himself.

When they'd rebuilt their lives after Meteor, it had been together. His job took him all over the world, the distance between them erratic, varying; but he always returned to her. To home.

It was only after he'd become sick with geostigma that he'd actually tried to escape. To truly leave her behind, before his orbit decayed and sent them both crashing down.

That's when he learned that, at some point, somehow, he'd captured her as well.


	7. Growing Incentive

**Title: ** Growing Incentive  
**Pairing: ** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating:** K  
**Prompt: ** Another ffvii_het_meme prompt, for Tifa cutting her hair and Cloud reacting. Prompt asked for pre-AC (so I fail, as this is post-AC), but it's what came to mind.

Cloud sat at the end of the bar, quietly tallying the repairs Fenrir needed after facing off against Sephiroth's remnants. Scrapes, dents, bullet holes – his beloved machine had suffered everything but a flat tire.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Tifa finish cleaning the last of the glassware, leaving the bar ready for another day. In particular, he watched the sway of her long brown tresses where they fell between her shoulder blades. A few months ago, before he let his geostigma fears chase him away, her hair had been much longer, the ends almost brushing the backs of her knees. Now the longest strands didn't even reach the small of her back.

The length of her hair had been one of the few frivolous things she allowed herself, and he wondered, yet again, why she'd cut it. His puzzlement – along with his distraction – must have shown on his face, for she teasingly called him on it.

"What has you so confused, Cloud? Still trying to identify where and when each and every scratch occurred?"

He smiled a little, realizing he was a bit obsessive when it came to Fenrir, but shook his head. "I was wondering why you cut your hair," he replied honestly, voice softly curious.

Tifa hesitated, her smile faltering for a moment, but quickly turned the question around. "Why did you cut yours?"

Blue eyes blinked in surprise. He'd only once changed his hair, when he first joined Shin-Ra: he'd worn it long back in Nibelheim. "It was against regulations. SOLDIERS could do what they pleased, but the rest of us had standards to follow." He shrugged, his manner dismissive. "Once it was cut, I found I liked it better."

"Mmm," wiping at an already well-polished spot on the counter, Tifa nodded in understanding. "Maybe I like mine better this way, too." It was suggestion and explanation in one, should he care to accept it.

"Do you?" Cloud tilted his head to try and catch her eye, but hers flickered nervously from point to point around the room.

She found she had no answer. The shorter length was easier to maintain, but there were times she missed the weight and feel of the longer style. As Cloud continued to watch her, eyes serious and solemn, still curious, she found herself willing to tell him the truth.

"After you left, I just... Denzel was getting worse, and business was failing. Marlene cried herself to sleep once every few days. It didn't matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do anything to fix any of it. I needed to feel like I was in charge of something." So she cut her hair, because it was a decision only she could make, and it somehow let her feel a little more in control of her life.

Standing, he reached across the bar to place his gloved palm over her fidgeting fingers. "I'm sorry." His words were simple but heartfelt. Sorry he'd left, sorry he hadn't been there to help, sorry things had seemed so hopeless. His steady gaze promised that – should there ever be a next time – she wouldn't be alone.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. "That I cut my hair?" she joked. "You don't like my new look?"

His smile flashed brighter, just for a moment, and he chuckled a little. "It doesn't matter what I think," he told her, "as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"But?" despite his care to be non-judgmental, there was definitely a 'but' in his tone.

His free hand ruffled the hair on the back of his head, as he almost abruptly let his lips curve in a boyish grin. "But... I did fantasize about your hair." Long, soft, silken and fragrant, and belonging to a woman he all but idolized? _Of course _he'd fantasized about it, and the different ways he could play with it should the right situation ever arise.

Tifa's jaw dropped as she stared at him, and then she started giggling. "You did not!"

Undeterred, he reached out to wrap some of her tresses around his fist, and used them to draw her closer. "Oh yes I did," he assured her, murmuring the words against her lips between kisses, "and in great detail."

Brown eyes soft and wide, her cheeks just barely pink, she smiled. "Tell me," she half begged, half ordered.

Letting her hair slip from around his fingers, he shook his head, grin changing to a smirk. "I don't think so. But if you grow it out again, I'll show you."

With one last kiss he left her there, mouth once more agape with surprise, as his footsteps faded up the stairs.

And eyeing the strands falling over her shoulder, she wondered: just how long would it take to regrow her previous length?


	8. A Good Idea

**Title: **A Good Idea**  
****Characters:** Cloud/Tifa **  
****Rating:** K**  
Summary: **Tifa greets the idea of a glass-bottom boat with trepidation. **  
****Notes:** This is also a "Get Well" fic for **qwi_xux**. She requested something with a picnic on a ship. I don't know anything about ships or sea life, so.. um... here goes! I did, however, write this with a particular Russian boat in mind.

Tifa eyed the boat with some skepticism. It had been developed by the same engineer acquaintance that had helped Cloud with Fenrir, operating under a grant from the WRO. Like Fenrir, it was sleek and modern, and held unexpected surprises: one of which was the large glass bottom. The idea was to allow people to study and observe ocean environments without disturbing or polluting them.

On the surface, it was a fantastic idea. In reality, it made Tifa nervous.

Denzel and Marlene, however, were obviously excited to try it out, while Cloud had made the original agreement, and therefore must be similarly interested. She was the only one hesitating. Taking a deep breath, she grasped Cloud's hand to steady herself as she jumped the small distance from the dock to the rear of the vessel. Smiling, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he took the cooler from her, and stowed it safely in one of the storage compartments.

"Let's go!" Denzel exclaimed, brimming with excitement, and was echoed by Marlene. The two had already settled themselves on the curved bench behind the driver's seat. Still somewhat reluctant, Tifa took the empty seat next to Cloud as he turned the key and started the motor.

For a small boat powered largely by solar energy, it was extremely fast. They plowed through the waves as they left the marina in Costa del Sol, churning up spray that rained down in a refreshing mist. The children both cheered and laughed and pointed out everything from seagulls to buoys to jet skis. After awhile, Tifa even managed to relax enough to close her eyes and enjoy the wind through her hair.

When she opened them, Cloud's gaze was pleased and knowing, prompting her to poke him – gently – in the side.

"No tickling the driver," he told her, catching her hand in his, and keeping it until some time later when they arrived at their sight-seeing destination.

He'd barely killed the motor before Marlene and Denzel were moving forward to the seats surrounding the glass observation window in the bottom of the boat. Resisting the urge to protest when both children lay down on the floor, faces and hands positioned over the glass, Tifa moved to sit within reach of them on the forward seats. Cloud produced some sort of flyer, detailing the types of life the reef supported, and the kids made a game of trying to see who could spot the most. For the next hour, there was much pointing and exclaiming as various fish, anemones, and urchin were discovered.

When lunchtime arrived, it was a chore to pull them away from the wondrous world beneath the boat for long enough to eat. Chicken salad sandwiches, pickles and chips were no match for eels and stingrays, starfish and a curlicue anemone. Tifa gave up trying after each child bolted down a sandwich and asked to be excused. Cloud, at least, was happy to sit with her and enjoy the food she'd packed, even going so far as to finish Marlene's chips and snitch Denzel's pickle.

When she called him a bottomless pit, he calmly leaned over and took a bite of _her_ sandwich, lips just brushing her fingers. Admittedly, it was a small bite, but... "Cloud!"

Unrepentant, he chewed and swallowed, then kissed her before restarting the boat and maneuvering it to a different section of the reef. When he returned, he helped her clear away their picnic, and then stretched out on the bench beside her, his head in her lap. Listening to the children's distant, happy chatter, Tifa ran her fingers through his hair, tilting her head to enjoy the ocean breeze on her neck and shoulders.

"Still think this was a bad idea?" Cloud's voice was soft, maybe a touch knowing, his eyes still closed.

Tifa tugged gently on the longest of his spikes, prompting him to wrinkle his nose and catch her fingers with his own. "I said a glass bottom boat _sounded like _a bad idea. I never said anything about a day trip on the ocean."

"The boat is still in one piece, and the kids are having a great time," he pointed out.

A smile teased at the corner or her mouth. "Don't tempt fate."

"Tempting fate would be letting them play with dolphins. Marlene would try to go for a ride." Opening his eyes, he slanted a glance at her. "This is comparatively much safer."

"True." They lapsed back into silence, both of them listening to Denzel exclaim over a clown fish, while Marlene cooed at – from the sound of it – a spotted pink slug. Cloud's shoulders shook with amusement, and she tugged on his hair again. "Alright, it was a good idea," she conceded.

His smile turned smug.

Tifa's was impish. "In fact, you should probably plan our whole vacation," she went on, breezily. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"


	9. A Proper Kiss

**Title: ** A Proper Kiss  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa, cameo by Marlene  
**Summary: ** The real reason Alfred kissed Rosa on the hand.  
**A/N: ** Written for the Final Fantasy OTP war on livejournal.

Cloud leaned against the door jamb, watching and listening as Tifa told Marlene a bedtime story.

"Then the legendary knight Alfred saved Princess Rosa with the power of his love," Tifa was saying, demonstrating by taking one hand in the other and pressing a fervent kiss to the back of it. "The dragon was defeated, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end!"

Judging by Marlene's expression, she was neither pleased nor impressed. "That's _it_?" the little girl demanded. "He kissed her _hand_?" When Tifa nodded, Marlene crossed her arms in a huff. "That's not right. He's supposed to kiss her on the _lips_! Like in _Sleeping Beauty_."

The corner of Cloud's mouth quirked in agreement: Alfred certainly hadn't been one for sweeping Rosa off her feet in fairy tale fashion.

Tifa was flustered. "It's... it's... it's courtly love, Marlene. He's showing her respect as well as affection."

Marlene was unconvinced, arms still folded, her expression unsatisfied. "I think he just didn't want to kiss her properly," she argued, "so he kissed her hand to avoid hurting her feelings."

Blue eyes shifted to Tifa, noting her blush and lowered eyes and the way her fingers knotted together anxiously. _Is that what she's been thinking, too? All this time? _ His brows briefly drew together in a frown. That was a misconception begging to be disabused. Clearing his throat, he straightened and stepped into the room. "He was probably just uncomfortable about kissing her in front of the King, _and_ the wizard, _and _the dragon."

Both heads turned as he spoke, Marlene eagerly latching onto his suggestion, "Really, Cloud?"

He nodded, although his attention was still primarily focused on Tifa. "Yes. It was their first kiss, you know," he explained. "I'd be nervous, if I was kissing a beautiful girl for the first time, in front of an _audience_ no less." The emphasis was deliberate, and of course Tifa caught it: her gaze turned hopeful, slanting shyly at him from under lowered lashes. Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through hers and tugged slightly, pulling her into the circle of his arms. "The next time he kissed her, I'm sure it was more like this." Cupping her chin in his hand, he dipped his head to brush her lips lightly with his own, then slowly increased the contact until the kiss was as firm and fervent as the one Tifa had demonstrated on the back of her hand.

When he drew back, both females sighed with contented satisfaction. Letting his hand fall after one gentle stroke of his thumb over Tifa's cheek, Cloud paused only to ruffle Marlene's hair before strolling from the room as abruptly as he'd entered. Behind him, he heard the child's excited comment:

"Cloud makes a _great _legendary hero, doesn't he Tifa?"


	10. Indecent Proposal

**Title:** Indecent Proposal  
**Characters: ** Cloud/Tifa  
**A/N: ** Another OTP War ficlet. This is not necessarily the way I think this scene would play out. I just wanted to write something else for the OTP War, and this came to me fairly quickly. I made it with thirty minutes before the deadline!

He'd tried it sitting in a chair, and it was fairly comfortable. He'd tried it standing up, but couldn't decide how to position his feet. He'd tried it kneeling, and it struck him as contrived.

Flat on his back would be ridiculous, and was absolutely out of the question.

Really, nothing felt as right as just giving it to her. Walking right up to her and just... doing it. Without flowery words, or even words of any kind. They did well without words; it was when he tried to express himself verbally that he stumbled.

Still... she would probably like it if he asked, instead of just assuming she wanted it, too.

So he was practicing his lines in the shower, and feeling like a fool.

The soap slipped out of his hand and he bent to pick it up. _I'm down here already, might as well try it kneeling again,_ he thought. Drawing a deep breath, he looked up into the shower spray and offered the soap to an invisible Tifa.

"Will you marry me?"

The next moment the shower curtain was abruptly jerked aside, and Tifa stood there gaping at him. His dirty clothes were bundled under her arm, attesting to the fact that she'd come in to collect the laundry while he was distracted with his own thoughts. She raked him with a considering look, and Cloud flushed under her gaze.

She smiled – her just-for-him smile -- and then her lips curved further and her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I don't think the faucet is your type, but if you ask _me_ once you're dressed, I might consider it. I'll even let you keep the soap."


	11. Turn About nonsmut version

**Title:** Turn About (non-smut version)**  
Pairing:** Cloud/Tifa**  
Rating:** T  
**Prompt:** Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa: foot rub and other pampering - just one night  
**Summary:** Cloud's had a rough few days. Tifa makes everything better.  
**Notes: **The lemon version will be posted in _Behind Closed Doors_.

It was not uncommon, at the end of a long day, for Tifa to collapse on the sofa after her shower and put her abused feet in Cloud's lap. "You have magic hands," she'd all but moaned the first time he'd reduced her to a weak-limbed mass with nothing more than a simple foot rub. He'd smiled – that sexy-yet-shy smile – and then carried her upstairs to finish the job, leaving her boneless and quivering and thoroughly satisfied.

There were dozens of tiny little ways he spoiled her like that; from picking up rare and beloved ingredients whenever he had the chance, to helping her clean the bar after he'd already worked a full day of deliveries. "You take care of me all the time," he'd countered, when she'd protested that he didn't need to do so much, "let me do this." She'd hesitated, and he'd pressed. "Let me, Tifa."

So she had. Largely because pampering her seemed to make him happy, and she'd be a fool to say she didn't appreciate the help, or enjoy the attention. If anything, what upset her was the fact that she rarely – if ever – had a chance to pamper _him_. To have him lean on her. Geostigma and mako-poisoning aside, Cloud was a man who never got sick, and whose energy and stamina surpassed everyone they knew (excepting, possibly, Denzel and Marlene on a sugar high, and even then it was a toss-up).

When the search parties scouring Midgar in the wake of the Deepground incident were finally dispersed, that changed. Cloud returned home filthy, sporting a variety of cuts and bruises, the knees and hems of his pants torn and ragged. Although he hadn't slept in four days, his eyes were clear, not glassy, his exhaustion only apparent in the tone of his voice. More obvious was the abuse to which he'd subjected his body: close to one hundred hours spent moving concrete rubble and steel girders searching for Vincent or any other survivors, had left even his mako-enhanced body worn, muscles knotted, joints tight. Never one for broad gestures, now every movement was honed to a strict minimum to avoid jarring or straining anything further.

Between the grime and the blood and the shuffling movements, he reminded Tifa of a zombie. A blond, blue-eyed, beloved zombie, but a zombie just the same.

Forcing back her distress, she was quick to assist him in removing his armor and sword harness, kneeling to help him out of his boots so he wouldn't have to bend or try sitting: once he was seated, it might be difficult to get him moving again. He ate standing up as well, single-handedly devouring a chicken casserole that would've fed four. Her eyes narrowed at that, but she resisted the urge to scold: in the first place, it wouldn't change the fact that he obviously hadn't been eating, and in the second, Cloud would always be Cloud. When he finished, she helped him upstairs to the shower, taking his ruined clothes and leaving him to drain the hot water heater.

He took inordinate pleasure in watching the gray-tinted water wash down the drain, and in the feel of hot water and steam-warmed air on skin that had been too long coated with ash and dirt and – in some places – blood. It took three tries before his hair lost its stiffness and the water ran clear. Once clean, he stood with his arms raised and braced against the shower wall, letting the hot spray beat down on the muscles in his back and shoulders, coaxing them to relax.

_Heaven._

Although still somewhat stiff, by the time the water turned cold Cloud felt he could walk without wincing at every step. For which he was glad, because when he entered the bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, Tifa was waiting, and it'd been far too long since they'd been together. Dressed in panties and an oversized t-shirt that had slipped down over one shoulder, she met him with a smile and a kiss, before surprising him by urging him to lay down on the bed on his stomach. He wanted to protest, to tell her he needed her more than sleep, but the soft mattress and cool sheets felt sinfully good, and when she undid the loose knot at his hip to spread the towel out, he suspected she had ideas other than sleep in mind.

When she straddled him he was certain of it, although a bit confused. "Tifa? What are you...?"

"Shhh," came the response, along with the faint sound of a cap popping open. Then her hands were at the small of his back, cool and slippery. Slowly, one hand on either side of his spine, she stroked smoothly upward, and he found himself releasing a deep sigh in tandem with the motion. Her fingertips ghosted along his shoulders, down his sides, and then returned to the small of his back only to repeat the cycle. After a few repetitions, he realized there was just the faintest tingle left behind on his skin, accompanied by the merest hint of birch in the air: she was using the massage oil she sometimes worked into her legs and arms after a particularly strenuous workout. The vaguely minty tang was both soothing and revitalizing, and Cloud sighed again, reaching out to pull a pillow close, curling his arms under the fluffy weight and resting his head on top.

"Good?" she asked, voice soft, as if worried she'd disturb him.

His answer was equally low, a wordless sound of pleasure. It was better than good: at the moment there was nothing to worry about, no enemies to fight, and the woman he loved was doing fantastic things to ease all the built-up tension from his body.

Well, almost all. Tifa's ministrations were feeding a different, pleasurable sort of tension, and he had not the slightest interest in making her stop. No one else had ever touched him just to give pleasure. No one had ever slathered him with attention the way she was now. Mind and body soaked it up, the way his skin absorbed the light oil as her hands worked over his back.

Hissing in a breath as her knuckles rubbed deep, kneading a particularly stubborn knot, he then exhaled a low moan when his muscles unclenched at her insistence. She moved on to the next trouble spot, prompting a gasp and a vaguely pleased whimper. Tifa chuckled, leaning down to breathe in his ear, "If that's what I sound like when you rub my feet, I know why it turns you on." Cloud flushed at her teasing, but gamely turned his head for her kiss.

"If it feels this good when I give you a foot massage," he answered, nipping lightly at her bottom lip before snuggling his face back in the pillow, "I know why you enjoy them so much."

Sitting back up, she scooted a little further down on the bed and started to rub tantalizing circles over his tail bone with her thumbs. He jerked a bit in surprise, but subsided under her touch, only to reach down and rearrange things a few seconds later. Tifa grinned, but didn't stop the motion of her hands. "You've never had a massage before?"

"No," although muffled, she could still hear the blatant enjoyment in his voice, "I've never really had the opportunity." He paused, arching into the press of her fingers. "Besides, it took me months to be comfortable with Barret or Cid walking up and thumping me in the shoulder or patting me on the back. I still get jumpy if a customer does it."

Tifa could picture it, too: she'd seen him start away when customers tried to pat him on the shoulder in thanks. "I guess that would make sitting still for a massage difficult," she agreed, keeping her tone light and cheerful, refusing to let regret over things she couldn't change intrude on the moment. Shifting to straddle his calves, she bent down and pressed a nipping kiss to the curve of his butt, delighting in the surprised sound he made in response: half gasp, half laughter. "But I'd be happy to give you one, anytime. I'm not an expert, but Master Zangan said I had a nice touch."

"Very," Cloud agreed, lifting his head to look at her over his shoulder. "I hope you made him keep his clothes on, though, and your teeth to yourself." His eyes were bright with relaxed amusement.

"Cloud!" she protested, swatting him firmly on his too perfect ass, "Bad images! Bad images are not allowed! I can't bleach my brain!"

Shoulders shaking with silent laughter he subsided, and the room became quiet except for their breathing and his occasional sighing moan. Tifa's thumbs soothed away aches in his glutes he wasn't even aware he'd had, before she stretched out on top of him, her face snug in the curve of his neck and shoulder, her light weight pressing him gently into the mattress.

"All better?" she asked, lips against his throat.

His answer was a sleepy, affirmative grunt, followed by an impressive yawn.

She laughed, the sound soft and happy, prompting his mouth to curve in response, although he remained silent, eyes closed. "Good night, Cloud," she breathed, ghosting a kiss across his lips as she shifted to lie beside him, pulling the covers up over them both.

He mumbled something unintelligible, one arm slipping around her waist to hold her close, and then he stilled, his breathing even and regular. He was adorable in his utter relaxation -- a far cry from the zombie she'd met at the door -- and even as she followed him into sleep, Tifa basked in the knowledge that she'd been the one to give him that calm.


	12. Principles

**Title: ** Principles**  
Characters: ** Tifa**  
Rating: **G  
**Summary: ** No matter how circumstances change, Tifa has principles, and she sticks to them.

Tifa didn't balk when her customers began to dwindle, and the bar remained empty more often than not. She knew it was because of Denzel's geostigma, and while the loss of business hurt their finances, the tangle of emotions in the little boy's eyes hurt far worse. Regret and guilt and pain were reflected there, as if it were his fault that people could be cruel and petty and superstitious. That expression – so similar to things she'd seen in Cloud's weary gaze – tugged at her heart, causing her hands to ache with the need to curl into fists, and her throat to seize with the urge to vent her frustration at the world.

She resisted both impulses: fighting could only upset things more, and she'd long since learned that the world was unfair and people were selfish. So she hugged Denzel close, masking her worry and upset while pointedly demonstrating that she wasn't afraid of either him or the disease. Over the next few days, she took pains to make sure he knew that nothing had changed, that he was still welcome. Hesitant offers to help bus the tables were willingly accepted, he and Marlene continued to take their meals in the bar, and anyone daring to make a fuss about the black sores on his forehead was abruptly asked to leave.

And although funds grew tight, and she and Cloud scrambled a bit more to pay the bills, Tifa refused to let her concerns change who she was as a person.


	13. Stolen Moment

**Title:** Stolen Moment  
**Characters: **Cloud/Tifa  
**Prompt:** #014: Shadow  
**Summary: **It's not the time or the place, but they'll take what they can get.

Fenrir came to a skidding stop in the shadow of the under-construction building where Bahamut SHIN was wreaking havoc. As Tifa slipped off to stand on the pavement, Cloud's hand closed around her wrist, preventing her from darting into the fray. He dismounted the bike, keeping one eye on the summon, and then -- apparently satisfied the others could handle things for a few more minutes – turned to press his lips to hers briefly but firmly. "Be careful," was all he said, before releasing her and sprinting away to rescue Barret from his own inattention.

In her shock, she hadn't had a chance to respond to the kiss or return the admonishment, much less figure out what the ridiculously sentimental gesture was supposed to _mean_.

That didn't stop her from grinning like an idiot, though, and she had to school her features into something more determined and appropriate as she moved to stand with the others.


	14. Catharsis

**Title**: Catharsis  
**Characters**: Cloud/Tifa (tiny cameo by Denzel and Marlene)**  
Rating:** G**  
Summary**: Tifa has some unresolved issues Cloud needs to address.

The day she'd realized Cloud had left Seventh Heaven with no plans to come back, Tifa didn't cry. Although something had broken inside her, she'd consciously refused to dwell on it. Tears and noise wouldn't change anything or help anyone. Shoving the confusion and disbelief back, and forcing herself to breathe normally through the tightness in her chest, she'd pretended – for the sake of Denzel and Marlene – that the absence was only temporary. They'd needed the semblance of stability and normality more than she'd needed to break down and let the pain inside her escape.

Better that they believe she was lonely than without hope. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could even believe it herself.

A few weeks later, when she and Marlene found Cloud's bedroll in Aerith's church, Tifa had again refused to let the hurt show. Accepting it with a sad sort of dignity, she'd shunted her foolish, romantic notions and unproductive, jealous questions aside. If she wasn't what he needed or wanted, recriminations wouldn't change that; nor would they let her say the things it seemed Cloud needed to hear. At least not calmly enough to make sense or be effective.

If she had to stifle her unhappiness to get him moving, it was a small price to pay.

That attitude – the willingness to ignore her wounded feelings and swallow her pride in order to get things done – had kept her going until the crisis was finally over. But a few days later, when the world had calmed and their friends had dispersed again, the routine of their lives resuming, she'd found that the unresolved emotional maelstrom whirling inside her needed an outlet. With the security and stability of their family dynamic reestablished, Denzel and Marlene no longer needed her to be their rock. Cloud seemed to have overcome his issues, or at least learned to shoulder them more easily, and was moving forward under his own steam. In the absence of their emotional burdens, her own had risen, clamoring, to the surface. The doubts and injuries and regrets she'd ignored before demanded expression and acknowledgment.

It was during dinner that the knot first began to loosen, writhing free of her control. Marlene had innocently asked Cloud where he'd showered while staying at Aerith's church. It was a fair question: he always took a shower in the evening after being on the road all day.

Tifa never heard his answer, was only peripherally aware that whatever he said had both kids laughing. She was too busy dealing with the sudden remembrance of the fact that Cloud had left her. Not that she'd forgotten – not really – she'd just... let it slip her mind so she wouldn't have to address it. Now it was as real and fresh as if it had just happened, as painful as when she first saw his makeshift pallet. He had chosen to sleep on the floor in Aerith's church, forgoing such simple amenities as mattresses and hot water, rather than stay at Seventh Heaven. What did that say about her? About them?

"Tifa?"

Brown eyes blinked at the sound of his voice, refocused on patiently attentive blue.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He smiled, gesturing with his fork at Denzel and Marlene. "They don't believe you've ever had to take a bath in a rain barrel," he said.

Oh. They were still discussing bathroom facilities or the lack thereof, and Cloud was sharing tales of their trip across the planet. Wrinkling her nose at Marlene, she nodded. "It's true, I did. There was moss or algae or something on the bottom, and it made my feet slip."

"Ewww!" Marlene's expression matched her exclamation, while Denzel's was vaguely impressed. The two continued to ask questions throughout the rest of the meal, revealing a wealth of childish curiosity they'd obviously held in check while the bar was filled with guests. Listening to their piping voices and Cloud's answers provided an amusing distraction from her new awareness of unhealed wounds.

Unwittingly, she'd picked at them too soon, and they were bleeding again. Or maybe they'd always needed to be lanced before her heart could properly repair itself. Either way, her emotions were running high, her thoughts churning, the dam she'd built ready to burst.

The new look in Cloud's eyes when they said good night didn't help her wildly varying disposition either. Uncertain what it meant, whether it was good or bad, Tifa had smiled and quickly excused herself to take a shower. His gaze followed her as she jogged up the stairs, and she couldn't escape the feeling that now she was the one running away. That impression only increased when she exited the bathroom to find his light out and his door closed. Although he'd usually slept with the door closed before he left, this was the first time he'd done it since he returned. Did it mean something? Had he wanted to talk? Or was it the other way around, and leaving it open had been some sort of sign?

The next thought struck with unwanted abruptness: _Was he even in there?_

Soft but rapid footfalls carried her down the short flight of steps, her fingertips brushing the doorknob before she stopped herself. It wasn't right for her to doubt him after he'd promised to stay. If she opened the door, of course he'd be there, and the fact that she hadn't trusted him would confuse things further.

More than anything, Tifa was tired of being confused. Of trying to make sense of his mixed signals. Was it even fair to call them mixed, if half of them had been sent while he was sick and running? Or had things been reset – the buffer cleared – when he was cured? She didn't know, and thinking about it just made her throat tight with unshed tears. What were they to one another? What did he want them to be?

Slightly trembling fingers curled into a fist, and she turned away from his door to pad into the bar. There she found the reassurance she needed in the presence of the fusion sword propped in a corner, his spaulder and sword harness dangling from the back of a barstool. It should have eased her, but this, too, was unlike Cloud: although never particularly neat, he did tend to confine his scattered belongings to his room.

Unbidden, the first tear slid down her cheek, and she angrily swiped it away. _Don't cry_, she told herself sternly. _ There's no _reason _to cry_. What would she be crying _for_, anyway? Because he'd taken to leaving things where she could find them and know he was still there, at home, where her heart said he belonged? "Don't be stupid," she muttered to herself, even as her eyes continued to burn, and a second tear painted a trail on the opposite cheek.

Dropping down to sit on the bench that ran the length of the room, she closed her eyes and took long, deep breaths in an effort to push back the welling emotions. This time, though, they refused to go. Maybe because her turmoil didn't stem from any single, particular thing. Not his leaving, not his seeking solace in the place where Aerith's presence was strongest, and not his mixed signals. Certainly not the sight of his sword or armor and not his changed habits. It was about all of it, all at once, and the physical and emotional need to give vent to everything she'd kept bottled up over the last few months. Despite her resistance, the ache grew until it was unbearable, and her next breath escaped as a sob.

* * *

Cloud opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Lighter than Denzel's, but slightly heavier than Marlene's: Tifa's. They hesitated outside his door, and only then did it register that he hadn't reopened it after changing his clothes. Denzel and Marlene practically vibrated with anxiety whenever he was out of their sight, and even Tifa hadn't completely gotten over the urge to check that he hadn't disappeared; so he'd been sleeping with the door open, allowing curious eyes of all ages to verify he was still there when they awoke in the night. Although he was a fairly private person, he found he didn't mind the change in his routine. There was something soothing about being able to clearly identify where Tifa and the children were, and what they were doing, anytime they stirred. He was making an effort to give the kids other small signs that he was there as well. His boots were on the landing, right next to their sneakers. His sword had spent the last few nights downstairs, blatant and obvious where it leaned against the wall. Armor and sword harness were casually slung over a chair.

He wasn't sure, but he thought it was helping. At the very least, Tifa had yet to complain.

After the span of a few heartbeats, just long enough to have him swinging his legs to the floor and sitting up, Tifa's quiet movements continued on down to the bar. _Getting a drink_, he decided, pacing over to open the door before going back to bed. Stretching out and pillowing his head on his folded arms, he settled himself for sleep, half-listening for her return.

It never came.

Two minutes stretched to five, and finally ten. _What is she doing?_ Frowning, he stood and moved onto the landing, noting that the lights were all still out, and the television silent. In the quiet he paused to listen to the soft sounds of the children's breathing, and for any movement from the bar. Even straining to hear, he still almost missed the faint sound of an odd, gasping sort of breathing. Eyes wide, he hurried down the stairs. Was Tifa... crying?

Tifa didn't cry. Not over little things, ever, and very rarely over big ones. Yet mako enhanced vision easily spotted her in the darkened common room: knees drawn up to her chest, tears on her cheeks and her breathing soft but ragged.

_Why?_

It was actually somewhat frightening, and definitely disturbing, to see. Bare feet carried him swiftly but quietly across the floor, where he crouched in front of her, hands splayed on the leather cushion to either side. He leaned forward and her head came up, their bangs brushing against each other. Her breath sighing across his cheek, she spoke: "You've got to stop."

This close, the wet spots on her pajamas were visible and numerous, and he internally flinched at this verbal cue that they were his fault. "Stop what?" the question was soft and genuinely puzzled.

"Confusing me." Tifa sniffed after she said it, rubbing moisture away with the back of her hand.

Cloud tipped his head to the side slightly, resisting the urge to move closer and enfold her in a hug. He didn't – at the moment – think it would be welcome. "Am I?" She nodded, just slightly, slow tears still traveling down her face, making his thumbs itch to wipe them away. "I don't mean to."

"You left." The whisper was both accusation and explanation in one, conveyed in a shaky but utterly factual tone.

His fingers curled slightly, a regretful, aborted action. He'd explained – somewhat – to Marlene, but Tifa hadn't asked, and he hadn't offered. That had apparently been a mistake. "I came back," he answered, and when she didn't respond, he tried again. "Tifa... I didn't _want_ to leave."

A shake of her head, the motion still small but more forceful than her earlier nod. "You said you wanted to be here, with me. Then you left." He drew breath to explain – belatedly – but she wasn't finished. "You left me and went to her."

He blinked. "Who?"

A huff of exasperation as she reached out and poked him in the shoulder. "_Her_, Cloud." The emphasis and the tone were clarification enough. There was pain and love and regret in Tifa's voice, along with a familiar but forgotten touch of jealousy. The last time he'd heard it, that jealousy had been tinged with playful teasing; this time it was faintly bitter.

"Aerith?" he asked, and knew he sounded incredulous.

Frowning, she wiped her face again. "Who else?" With a sigh, she let her head fall back against the cushion behind her. "You didn't even say goodbye."

Her voice was small and sad and it _hurt_ him to hear it. "Aerith is dead, Tifa," he murmured, feeling foolish for stating the obvious, yet still feeling it needed to be pointed out given the conversation. The last of the Cetra was dead, if not really gone, and – from what he'd seen -- completely happy.

"_I _know that Cloud," and he wondered at the particular emphasis she put on the pronoun. "If anything, that just makes it worse." Her brown eyes opened to stare at the ceiling. "I loved her, too. We all did. I just... didn't expect your feelings to still be unresolved. I thought..." she drew a shuddering breath, and swallowed. "Well, it doesn't really matter."

"Tifa..." one lightly calloused hand came up to push her hair back, and she stiffened.

"Don't!" Cloud drew back at the vehemence in her tone, and her fingers twisted, fisting in his shirt. "I'm serious, Cloud," she told him, and she sounded world-weary and worn out. "You can't keep confusing me. If you still miss her, if you still love her, I understand. It hurts, but I understand. But you can't have it both ways. You have to choose." Her crying was still quiet, but the tears were coming faster, and she let go of him to swipe both hands across her cheeks. Brown eyes met blue for just a moment, and her mouth twisted into a gentle but wry smile. "You can't spend your time missing her and then come home and hug me. You can't imply that you want me if you don't. You can't... you can't kiss me if you wish you were kissing her."

_What?!_ For a moment he could only stare, a dozen different questions coming to mind. Then comprehension kicked in, and a large part of him wanted to be angry. He was not _fickle_. As far as his feelings were concerned, he was more constant than... than something very constant that he was too shocked to think of at the moment. The speed of light. The rising of the sun. He was not _substituting_. He knew who he wanted, the same way he'd known when he was fourteen. One look at her distraught face, though, and the anger fizzled and died. Somehow, some way, they'd gotten their signals crossed. Maybe even as long ago as when Aerith teased him about going on a date. Whenever or wherever the mix-up had occurred, it obviously had colored her perceptions of everything that had happened since: his leaving, his guilt, his admittedly rare displays of affection.

Even the night under the _Highwind...?_

No wonder Tifa complained that he was confusing her. Thinking about it was confusing _him_, and he knew how he felt.

Slowly he brought his hands up to cup her face between his palms, his forehead to rest against hers. "Tifa," he began, speaking slowly and deliberately, "I am not in love with Aerith. I have _never_ been in love with Aerith. As far as I know, Aerith was never in love with me." Her expression was disbelieving, her breath still hitching in tiny, shuddering sobs. Cloud shook his head, pressing closer as his arms went around her, fingers threading through her hair. "There are a whole handful of reasons I ended up at the church, but none of them are the one you think. The only woman I've ever – _ever_ – been in love with, is you." Her face twisted and she turned to bury it in the hollow of his shoulder, body shaking. "When I hold you, it's because I want to hold _you_. When I kiss you, it's because I _need_ to kiss _you_." He nuzzled her ear, letting his tone turn soft. "I don't know how things managed to become so muddled," he added, "but I promise it's the truth." Sighing, he tightened his hold. "Please don't cry anymore, Tifa," he begged. "Please."

"I need to," she sobbed into his shoulder, "I'll feel better if I let it out." Each word was broken and more gasped than said, hard to understand and painful to hear. "Too much bottled up."

So for the next little while he held and rocked her and murmured wordlessly. Despite all the things he'd seen and done, sitting there as she soaked his shirt, her arms clenched almost desperately around his neck, was among the more nerve-wracking experiences of his life. Fifteen minutes of anxiety and sympathetic pain, wishing he knew some way to help. When she calmed, he was the one sitting on the bench, and she was cuddled in his lap. If it weren't for the fact of how they got there, it would've been heavenly.

"Better?" he asked, resting his cheek against the top of her head when a long sigh seemed to signal the end of the storm. Although he tried to keep his tone even, his anxiety and hopefulness still rang clear.

Tifa gave a watery chuckle. "No," she answered, leaning into him. "But now I just feel stupid and embarrassed rather than sad and confused and irrational."

Cloud smiled a bit as well, wiping the last of her tears away with his thumb, the way he'd wanted to earlier. "You've been through a lot," he offered gently, "and it's just me. There's no reason to be embarrassed."

"Easy for you to say," she countered. "_You're _not the one who's been wallowing in ridiculous worries and has a splotchy face." Drawing her bare legs up, she tucked them under the circle of his arm, letting the chilled flesh soak up some of his warmth. Beneath her ear, the beat of his heart was strong and steady and soothing. Lulling.

"No," he agreed, "I'm just the man who's so bad at relationships that you weren't sure I wanted one."

That, she felt, deserved a poke, but she was far too comfortable to move. "I'm sure now," she whispered instead.

"Good." And maybe, after the speech he'd made, he deserved to sound a bit smugly satisfied. The room was silent for a few minutes, and Tifa, exhausted from her crying jag, was starting to feel drowsy when next he spoke: "I did say goodbye." Her answering sound was wordless and sleepily questioning. "When I left. I did say goodbye."

Tilting her head back to rest against his arm, she eyed his profile, brows drawn down in consternation. He looked... nervous, although it was too dark for her to really tell. His feet shifted in an aborted attempt to fidget under her scrutiny.

"You were asleep," he explained, and then paused, and when he spoke again his voice was even more shyly reluctant than before. "Or, rather, I cast _sleepel_ on you so I could talk to you without waking you up." He angled his head to focus on her face, and she could see the faint glow of his eyes. "You were dreaming, and pulled me down onto the bed with you..."

Abruptly she was awake, one hand lashing out to smack him on the arm. "Cloud!" Her face was flushed, and he expected an angry lecture on taking advantage.

What he got was far more surprising.

"Don't you ever do that again without waking me up!"

He blinked, and she returned the gesture. Then she was smiling, reaching up to trail her fingers along his jaw. "I mean... you shouldn't have done it. But. I remember that dream." And it had been fantastic. Knowing that it had really been Cloud – that it really had happened – just made it better. Of course, she'd suspected it... but being certain was subtly different. "I'd rather remember the reality," she scolded lightly, "and not wake up the next morning wondering what had happened."

Tucking his chin, he offered an apology, his expression sheepish but optimistic. "I'm sorry?"

"You should be," she answered, and then ruined the lofty tone by sighing and snuggling against him again. "You know... you only ever kiss me when we're in the middle of some sort of crisis."

That surprised a chuckle out of him. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes." One word, simple and truthful. It had been part of the problem, really, with believing he was really interested in her. "The night before the final battle with Sephiroth? You kissed me. The night you left because of geostigma? You kissed me. Bahamut destroying Edge? You kissed me. You never just... kiss me to kiss me." Her tone had taken on a wistful note by the time she finished.

"Hmmmmm." The wordless sound was low and thoughtful.

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

"It means I didn't realize there were different reasons for kissing someone." His voice was amused, and somehow conveyed a verbal shrug as his lips brushed her temple.

"Oh." Really, what else could she say?

"Don't worry, though," he teased, light and playful as he rose to his feet, holding her securely against him, "I won't forget."

"Cloud?"

He chose not to reply until he'd carried her back to her room and deposited her carefully on the bed.

"I don't want there to be anymore misconceptions," he told her, blue eyes intent, words earnest and firm. "I want..." his grin and expression turned boyish, "I want to start over, and do things the way we should've from the beginning." The way they would have in Nibelheim. With no doubts and no questions: just them.

Tifa cocked her head, a smile tugging at her lips. The suggestion was tempting: neither of them had ever really had the chance to date or be teenagers. But... "_I_ don't want to wait six months to let you kiss me good night, Cloud," she said. It had been an old joke back in their home town, a complaint about how adults always wanted things to move more slowly.

His grin widened. "It won't take that long," he assured her, reaching out to stroke his thumb over her bottom lip, "I can be very convincing." His gaze flickered from her mouth to her eyes and held, voice going deep and smoky with promise. "I'm going to make absolutely certain you know, the next time I kiss you breathless, that I'm doing it for all the right reasons."

Two weeks later when he slowly backed her against her bedroom door, lips moving soft and languorous over her own as her knees melted and her fingers tangled in his hair, she hadn't a doubt in her mind.


	15. An Outburst of the Soul

**Title:** An Outburst of the Soul  
**Rating: **G  
**Prompt:** Final Fantasy VII (after Advent Children), Cloud/Tifa: Day out – Tifa finally managed to get Cloud to take her out on a date.  
**Summary:** How do you make dating special, when you're already involved?  
**A/N:** Apologies if this isn't what the requester intended; it's not really what I intended, either.

Given that they lived together, slept together, ate together, and raised kids together, it wasn't often that Cloud went through the motions of actually taking Tifa out on a date. On those rare occasions when he did, though, he took pains to make the event something special. Outside the ordinary.

The first time he asked her out, he took her dancing. Not to a club or night spot, but actual formal dancing. Ballroom dancing. He even wore a tux, and appeared stunningly handsome despite the awkwardness she knew he felt in the unfamiliar clothing.

Their second foray was somewhat less impressive, but no less thoughtful: they went to the third annual Kalm Brewfest. There were few major brewing companies active since Meteor; most of those that were in business prior to Sephiroth's rampage had been partnered with Shin-Ra and had since lost their funding. Wineries were even more uncommon. Instead, a plethora of micro-breweries had sprung up, producing everything from beer to vodka, pineapple wine to apple brandy. As such, the trip proved to be the perfect blend of business and pleasure, and Tifa returned to Seventh Heaven tipsy from the different beverages they'd tried, happy from the experience, and pleased with the new suppliers she'd found.

For their third date, Cloud purchased tickets to a piano recital at the Healin conservatory.

Although Tifa wasn't familiar with the pianist, many of the songs listed on the program were things her mother had been known to play. A few were even things she'd taught Tifa.

It wasn't the sort of event she'd ever have expected Cloud to know about, much less volunteer to attend. When they went dancing, it had been a charity event organized by Reeve. The Brewfest had been advertized with both posters and flyers for weeks, the date flashed in his face every time he went to Kalm for supplies. For this though... he must have purposefully planned ahead and asked around. All in an effort to give her something she'd been missing since her mother died, more than half their lifetime ago.

So they went, and sat somewhat stiffly on the delicate white folding chairs arrayed for the purpose – he only slightly less uncomfortable in his sport coat than in his tux, she demure in her blue silk dress, its tea-length hem a far cry from the skirts she usually wore.

But when the first chords echoed around the room, it didn't matter that they were in new or untried territory. The music was familiar, if played with a great deal more skill and slightly less emotion than she remembered, and just as dear and beloved. Reaching out to clasp his hand in hers, Tifa let Cloud anchor her in the present as her spirit reveled in joy from the past, the flow of notes soothing something inside her that had remained broken and jagged for far too long.

Over the years, she'd become accustomed to the pain of memory associated with her mother's music. The loss of it was synonymous with the loss of the woman herself: her confidant, her shoulder. Now Cloud was helping her find a way to love and appreciate it again, to recall and savor all the best experiences from her childhood.

There were tears in her eyes when the last notes faded away, a blend of happy and sad, pain and healing.

He wiped away the few that escaped, the pads of his fingers gentle on her skin, blue eyes troubled; and she kissed him to let him know she was alright – better than alright – the brush of her lips against his chaste but sweet.

And as he led her to the car to drive them home, she realized that – for the first time -- it didn't hurt to wonder what her mother would have had to say about their relationship. Instead, her mouth curved with a small smile as she imagined the older woman evaluating her strong, reticent man with the heart of gold.

Tifa was fairly certain she would have approved.


	16. Habits

**Title:** Habits  
**Characters: **Cloud/Tifa  
**Prompt:** (fanfic50) #022: Grin  
**Summary: **Cloud discovers that couplehood changes your perceptions.  
**A/N: ** Inspired by a friend on LJ. She's feeling under the weather, and asked for Cloud thinking that a habit of Tifa's is incredibly adorable. Feel better!

Cloud was aware, in a vague sense, that it was... normal... to find the things your significant other did adorable. He'd overheard snippets of conversation in the bar where men and women confessed to their best friends how much they liked it was when so-and-so did something-or-other. The time he heard a kid exclaiming about how great it made him feel that his girlfriend couldn't wake up in the night without kissing him on the cheek, for example. He'd rolled his eyes in response, thinking how impractical a habit it was: most people didn't like being startled awake, even if it _was_ with a kiss.

At any rate, even knowing it was a common lapse in judgment, he'd never experienced it firsthand. Not until he returned home after Sephiroth's attempted advent, and his relationship with Tifa changed. For the better. Closer. They were a couple in reality, instead of only in their imaginations and in the way others perceived them. They were talking more, and learning more about each other.

Which was how he first became aware of one of Tifa's more amusing habits: she liked to send little messages along in his lunch box. About once a week his delivery schedule would take him to an out-of the-way destination, where the opportunities to stop for a local bite were few and far between. On those occasions, Tifa would pack him a lunch, and it was always far better than anything he could get on the road, even in a place as rich with culture as Kalm. If it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to create more work for her, he'd ask her to make his lunch everyday. As it was, she always put enough food in a single packet to feed him _and_ Cid_ and_ Barret, and tended to include something from every food group. That was just Tifa. Well aware that his mako-fueled system burned through calories at an accelerated rate, she was always trying to stuff him full of his favorites. Given the variety she fit into the plain black box, maybe that was the point of the messages: to call attention to the healthier snack choices. Because whatever the reason behind the notes, she didn't just write them on a piece of paper and slip it in among the carefully wrapped sandwiches. No, if she packed him an orange, it would have a face drawn on it, with a bubble to the side telling him to drive safe. If she packed a banana, it would have a message telling him to smile, or perhaps a simple, 'Love You!' scrawled along the side. Apples were somewhat more problematic – as the skin was edible – but she'd been known to peel smiley faces and hearts into them, coating the exposed fruit with something that kept it from turning brown, and left behind a faintly lemony taste.

The whole idea was completely ridiculous, absolutely endearing, and never failed to make him smile. The shy, pleased grin that was almost exclusively just for her.

When she drank hot cocoa or, sometimes, coffee, she used coffee stirrers like chopsticks to eat the whipped cream off the top, and that made him smile, too. If it was store bought rather than homemade, he'd ask for extra when he ordered, just so he'd have more time to watch her do something so... cutely silly. Marlene had also picked up the habit, and that somehow just made it better. More homey. More_ them_. This was the way things were done at their house. And he liked it.

He liked the way she wrapped herself in his clothes when she was feeling blue. She said it helped chase the bad things away, whether those things were emotions, memories, or germs. Finding her curled up in bed wearing one of his old t-shirts never failed to make him feel wanted and welcome. Needed. And he'd hold her, knowing that would help chase away the unwanted melancholy, too.

Since the two of them were the only ones who would ever know – and he really didn't care one way or the other, unless going without was an option – Cloud was amused that her bra and panties absolutely _had_ to match. Always. Even if she was just going to spend the day cleaning house. And he loved it when she cleaned house, because she always wore the rattiest clothing she could find. Currently, her house-cleaning apparel consisted of a t-shirt so soft and thin as to be almost threadbare, and a pair of cut-offs Marlene had helped her make. There was a hole in the back pocket that went all the way through, and the little girl's scissors had slipped, making them the shortest pair of shorts Cloud had ever seen. Combined with the t-shirt, knotted under her breasts, it was one of his favorite outfits. It was a mystery to him whether Tifa knew the kind of show she gave him when she wore it. Probably. That she continued to wear it just made its innocent seduction even more effective.

She wore her hair knotted on top of her head when she paid bills, or took inventory, or balanced the accounts, and it always ended up in a lopsided pile, slightly off-center, by the time she was finished. She threw popcorn at the TV screen if the dialogue in whatever she was watching turned campy. She swore by a spoonful of sugar to cure the hiccups.

And if she woke up in the night, she always gave him a kiss on the cheek. In return, he would grin his special just-for-Tifa grin, and turn his head to catch her lips with his, causing her to laugh, just a bit.

"I love when you do that."


	17. Wardrobe Malfunction

**Characters: ** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating:** T  
**Title:** Wardrobe Malfunction  
**Prompt:** Hah, this one is my fault! I made the comment that at 24 years old, Cloud's libido should be threatening to burst his britches. ...Yeah, I went there. Sorry?

Cloud swallowed.

He'd opened the bedroom door to find Tifa waiting for him. On the bed. Legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles, while she leaned back on her elbows and watched him with her head tilted to the side, eyes bottomless and dark.

She was dressed in red -- if you could call the scraps of fabric clothing. The top was lace: short sleeved and tied with a ribbon around her throat, the whole barely containing her gorgeous breasts. The rest of her was bare except for the tiniest pair of panties he'd ever seen in his life.

They tied on either side, with showy satin bows that would come undone with just a touch.

"I've missed you, Cloud," she said, playing with the trailing edge of one crimson ribbon, her voice husky.

Frozen in place as all the blood in his body rushed to his groin, Cloud didn't move a muscle.

Yet there was the distinct sound of a button popping free, followed by the rapid rasping of a zipper. Tifa grinned, as Cloud looked down sheepishly to find the relevant portion of his anatomy had made an appearance, more than ready to play.

"I guess you're happy to see me," Tifa commented, before reaching up to grab the waistband of his pants and pull him down on the bed with her.


	18. Écouteurism

**Title: ** Écouteurism **  
****Rating: ** T (for innuendo and sexual themes) **  
Prompt (Porn Battle):** Cloud/Tifa, stereo vs. Dolby surround  
**Notes: ** The title is me being geeky. 'Écouteurism' has origins in French, and is the aural equivalent of voyeurism. That is, not just eavesdropping, but eavesdropping with erotic connotations.

"Goddamnit! It's like... like the difference between standard stereo and fucking high quality Dolby surround sound!" Cid was yelling when Cloud walked onto the bridge of the airship. His words were directed at Vincent, although his audience also included Yuffie and Tifa – both of whom were sporting flushed cheeks and rather fixed expressions.

"What is?" All eyes flashed to Cloud's face at the sound of his voice, and Cid's leer shifted from knowing to positively salacious.

Of more concern, however, was the death glare Vincent was sending him. What had he done to make the gunman angry? They'd only been on board for an hour!

"Cid was describing the different entertainment opportunities available to his passengers," Cait Sith explained, appearing from the far side of the center podium where his small form had gone unnoticed.

Cloud blinked, and observed that Tifa was suddenly being very careful to avoid looking at him.

"He was also explaining to Vincent why you and Tifa always get the cabin with the bigger bed."

Blond eyebrows rose in surprise, before mako-bright eyes narrowed in wary suspicion. "We do? Why is that?" _And how much am I going to regret asking?_

"Well," Cid grinned, shifting his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other, "it's like I was telling Vince, here: I don't know if it's a difference in your technique or her temperament, but for all that she's got a set of lungs on her, Yuffie just doesn't give the same quality performance as Tifa. Hell, Spiky, you could give us all lessons judging by the way she carries on!" A hard hand landed on Cloud's back in a congratulatory slap, the pilot's expression a horrid combination of smug, teasing, and impressed all rolled into one. "And if you're gonna put on a show for us, I figure you should get the better accommodations."

For a few, scant seconds, Cloud wavered between reveling in the sudden upwelling of male ego – the satisfaction of knowing his sexual prowess had awed a letch like Cid and embarrassed a man like Vincent – or conveying exactly why Cid should make additional sound proofing a priority.

A glance at Tifa's flushed face and harassed expression settled the argument in favor of the latter.

After all, he had hopes of repeat and encore performances, and didn't want to antagonize his leading lady.


	19. Speed Dating

**Title:** Speed Dating  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Um... characters from across the compilation?  
**Prompt:** Final Fantasy VII, any/ensemble: speed dating – Fancy meeting you here…  
**Summary:** Twelve characters from across the compilation attempt speed dating.

Cloud killed the engine and sat for a moment, wondering yet again why he'd let Aerith talk him into this. He couldn't even comfort himself with the knowledge that she'd also be suffering through the next hour, as their attitudes toward the event were completely contrary.

Resigned, he smoothly dismounted his motorcycle and walked toward the WRO. Ahead of him, a tall man with lurid red hair joked to a bald man with an impressive number of piercings that the letters stood for _Wild 'n' Racy Opportunities_. Cloud rolled his eyes – at least it wasn't as sappy as _Where Romance Occurs_, an explanation he'd heard a young woman offer a few weeks ago. When it first opened, the place had been called _Wine, Roses, and Overtures_; but the sign had weathered over time until only the oversized capitals remained legible. In recent years the original owner's son had replaced the sign, but had opted to keep just the letters as the name. Suggesting different possible meanings had become something of an ice-breaker.

Warm air, tinged faintly with wood smoke courtesy of a large double fireplace, greeted him once he stepped inside. Shrugging out of his coat, he made his way through the crowded waiting area to the maître d', a distinguished looking older man with a short beard and a calm, friendly expression. Accepting a pre-printed name tag, he pinned it to his shirt while allowing his blue eyes to wander over the sunken dance floor, still unsure as to whether meeting six women for ten minutes each was more or less nerve-wracking than spending an hour with just one.

Elena's long fingers tightened nervously around Cissnei's, as yet another young man entered the restaurant and accepted a name tag from the wait staff. Long used to being described as 'cute', the petite blond was finding it somewhat intimidating that all of the men lined up for this speed-dating event were downright drool worthy. Even the loud-mouthed red-head was easy on the eyes, if too chatty for her tastes.

"That's starting to hurt, Elena," Cissnei commented softly, and the blond abruptly let go, watching as her auburn-haired friend began carefully flexing her hand.

"Why are you so calm?" she demanded. "You're about to meet six total strangers, each one sexier than the next, all of them possible candidates for the cover of GQ!"

"I meet strangers all day," Cissnei returned calmly, "often for more than ten minutes at a time, and always without any real hope that the next one will be easy on the eyes or good for my social life. This is comparatively far less stressful." Elena pouted in the face of her blunt logic, and she laughed. "Think of it this way: no matter what comes out of his mouth, at least he'll be fun to look at, and later you can use him to fuel fantasies of Mr. Right."

Flushing, Elena turned slightly to elbow her friend in the side, but her pert mouth had started to curve in a smile rather than a worried frown. "Cissnei!" she scolded.

Ironically, a similar conversation was happening on the other side of the room... although one of the two men involved was speaking far too much, while the other said barely anything at all.

"It'll be fine, Rude!" was greeted with a frown. "What are you worried about? These ladies are _hot_!" didn't fare any better. "You're going to have to speak at least a little, you know," garnered a put-upon sigh.

Reno, however, wasn't fooled. He'd followed the line of Rude's vision and knew his best friend was already eyeing a busty brunette. Had been, in fact, even before she'd pinned the name tag to her clothing, indicating she was one of the six women they were scheduled to meet. Vocally reticent or not, Rude – in his own way – was just as eager as Reno.

The brunette Rude was eyeing was talking to an animated Wutaian woman, whose black hair was cut in a short bob that bounced with her every movement.

"They're all so _tall_," Yuffie murmured enthusiastically to Tifa, who rolled her eyes affectionately in response. _Everyone_ seemed tall when you were only five-foot-three.

_Then again_, she thought, eyeing the latest arrival – a handsome, well-built man with spiky black hair – _maybe Yuffie has a point_. Zack (as his name tag identified him) topped out at a few inches above six feet. That was a bit much for her personal taste: she preferred a date who was tall enough to make her feel feminine, but not so tall as to make her feel dwarfed. The quiet blond in the far corner, for instance, seemed just about right...

"Tifa!" a light female voice called, "Fancy meeting you here!"

Turning, the brunette faked a scowl, reaching out to tug on the end of the other woman's braid. "Oh yes, Aerith, what a surprise!" she replied with just a touch of sarcasm. "You and Yuffie have only been hounding me to try this for _months_. I'm sure you had _no idea _I'd be here tonight."

Laughing, Aerith linked arms with both Tifa and Yuffie, as the latter stuck her tongue out by way of rebuttal. "Things certainly look promising," was all she said, green eyes bright as they surveyed the array of prospective dates.

At the bar, Vincent and Tseng, both cool and elegant in tailored suits, were an island of calm. "I see Reeve conned you into coming as well," Tseng observed, taking a sip of his martini.

The corner of Vincent's mouth twitched in a small smile. "Yes." He cast a sidelong glance at Tseng. "He promised to foot the bill for our first date should I meet someone. You?"

Tseng returned the look. "Same."

The restaurant door opened again, admitting a woman with long reddish brown hair and wire-framed glasses. Her strides were assured as she approached the maître d' and received a name tag, indicating she was the last participant. As the woman – Shalua – removed her coat, the maître d' turned and gestured for everyone to join him on the dance floor. There, six small tables had been set up, evenly spaced to create at least the semblance of privacy.

Over the next hour, Cloud, Vincent, Tseng and Rude all independently decided that Yuffie was loud and borderline obnoxious. She, in turn, thought they were boring.

Shalua expressed interest in both Vincent and Tseng, and for Vincent, at least, the attraction was mutual. As a side note, Cloud commented that she reminded him disconcertingly of his highschool math professor, given the way she kept looking at him over her glasses.

Zack flirted with all six women equally. Both Aerith and Cissnei returned the sentiment.

Tseng and Elena hit it off, and at the end of the evening each specified that their contact information should be exchanged only with the other.

Cloud fumbled his way through his four encounters (his time with Aerith didn't count), and then completely forgot to be nervous when he met Tifa. She, in turn, found that he was not only the perfect height for her, but pretty much perfect in all other respects as well. They left hand in hand, after tossing their contact forms in the trash. Similarly, once Reno and Yuffie found they shared a mutual appreciation for inappropriate commentary, they decided to finish the evening with dinner and a movie.

Sadly, Rude had a rather unsuccessful evening -- romantically speaking -- but as Reno had acquired a girlfriend, he counted the experience a success overall. Anything that kept Reno out of the apartment and garnered him a little peace and quiet, was to be appreciated.


	20. A Little Less Anxious

**Title:** A Little Less Anxious  
**Characters/Pairing: ** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating: **PG  
**Prompt:** Fix-it/Retcon

As the fireworks continued to brighten the sky around them with bursts of color, Tifa's attitude turned even more hesitant.

"Cloud?" she began, voice soft, "Sometimes being old friends is hard. I mean... timing is everything."

He nodded, thinking of missed opportunities. "Yeah."

Looking away, she nervously crossed and uncrossed her legs. "Cloud? I..." her voice trailed off, and focused blue eyes watched as she bit her lip. A moment later her chin firmed with decision, and she slid forward in her seat. Bare knees brushed against the fabric of his pants as she leaned in and lightly pressed her lips to his. "I really like you, Cloud," she whispered, blushing. When he was silent, she moved to sit back again, disappointed, and found that at some point his hands had crept around her waist.

A moment later he was kissing her – really kissing, not just the faint skimming of lips she'd initiated. "I don't think 'like' is a strong enough word," he murmured when they came up for air.

Tifa nodded, and sealed her mouth to his again.

When the gondola came to a stop, they were both slightly mussed, grinning, and exited holding hands.


	21. Abundant Harvest

**Title:** Abundant Harvest  
**Characters:** Cloud/Tifa, Marlene, Denzel  
**Rating:** K+  
**Prompt: **FFVII: Cloud, Tifa, pumpkins from ff_kissbattle on LJ.

Cloud was unprepared for frenetic excitement to erupt when he mentioned – in passing – that the Chocobo Ranch was sponsoring a fall festival, complete with hay rides and a pumpkin carving contest. He certainly hadn't expected to find himself borrowing a truck from an elderly neighbor in order to cart the entire Seventh Heaven family out for the event. The previous year, when fall came around and Tifa and the kids got it into their heads to celebrate the season, his sole duty had been to procure a dozen large, bright pumpkins for them to use as their decorative canvas. He'd taken his role seriously – aside from the occasional teasing comment regarding cruelty toward vegetables, or horribly disfiguring squash surgery – and had brought home one or two at a time, purchased from various farms and stalls and markets as he made his deliveries. Each offering had been duly inspected and approved, and it's future features discussed while he'd listened, half-bemused.

Tifa had made pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread until the Seventh Heaven had been filled with the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg, and that – as far as Cloud was concerned – had been the best part of the whole production. (In fact, his taste buds and stomach had both agreed it was _fantastic_, and well worth the trouble of carting over-sized gourds around on Fenrir.)

Yet this – listening to Marlene and Denzel shriek with laughter as they played tag in the maze of hay bales, or watching as Denzel had his first meeting with a chocobo – was even better. Especially since Tifa had promised him the baked goods, too.

He should've known there would be a catch.

The downside of it all first hit him as he trailed along behind Tifa, she happily searching through the array of pumpkins to find the 'perfect' ones to take home. With one in each hand, and another clasped in the curve of each arm – the fruits of an hour and a half of shopping – he started to wish he'd kept his mouth shut. While Tifa and the kids had seemed terribly picky when looking over the pumpkins he'd brought home, that was nothing to the way Tifa inspected the things when buying them herself. She'd rejected dozens of perfectly beautiful specimens – enough that he was beginning to think she just liked having him follow her around, balancing orange squash like some sort of demented porter.

"What do you think Cloud?" she suddenly asked – the same way she'd asked a few hundred times already. The pumpkin in question – this time – was big enough that both Denzel and Marlene could sit on it. Together. At the same time.

"It's huge," he answered.

"I know! It's perfect!"

There was that magic word. "Last one then?"

Tifa smiled and rolled her eyes at his stoic yet somehow pathetic expression. "Last one."

Once they paid and carted the monstrosity back to the truck, she revealed that it was to be their entry in the carving contest.

"_Our_ entry?" Cloud asked, tone somewhat suspicious. He and Tifa were watching as Denzel and Marlene energetically scooped out the inside of the pumpkin in preparation for carving. Idly, he wondered if Tifa – being by far the more practical adult in their partnership – had thought to bring a change of clothing for either child. Denzel was covered up to his armpits in stringy vegetable guts, and had pulp smeared across his forehead; Marlene's hands and wrists were likewise coated, and her braid had somehow ended up in the mess, leaving a slimy smear across the back of her shirt. "Don't you mean _their_ entry?" he added, gesturing at the kids with his thumb.

Tifa shook her head, brown eyes laughing, but it was Marlene who answered. "No, Cloud," the little girl chirped, "this is the Seventh Heaven entry. That means you and Tifa have to help, too!"

And that, apparently, was that. In short order -- and at both Denzel and Marlene's insistence -- Cloud found himself confronted with one large, orange victim. Helpfully, they'd marked the pumpkin's skin with grease pen to indicate precisely what form the vegetative mutilation he was being forced to perpetrate was expected to take. Tifa slapped a boning knife into his hand, and motioned for him to get started.

Instead, Cloud frowned. Both the knife and the marks he was meant to follow were so... small. Given his sword and a pumpkin the size of a small car, he could produce a perfect caricature of Reno in minutes. This, though... this he didn't do. The kids watching and obviously expecting him to wield the flimsy thing with skill didn't help, either. He glanced hopefully at Tifa, only to have her raise an eyebrow at him in return. Mako-infused eyes turned vaguely pleading as he gestured with the knife, striving to convey that the implement was unacceptable.

Tifa crossed her arms and tapped her foot, unmoved.

Sighing, he let his shoulders slump as he approached the truck's tail gate where the pumpkin waited. Once there, he looked over the marks again, and then shook his head.

Watching him, Tifa was forced to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Cloud Strife was _pouting_. "You big baby," she teased, earning a scowl from under his spiky bangs, "bigger isn't necessarily better, you know. That knife will work perfectly well."

Straightening, he folded his arms, expression falsely mutinous, blue eyes gleaming with his own humor. He was going to get his way. "Judging starts in half an hour," he countered.

And, of course, he was right. Conceding the point, Tifa reluctantly exchanged the boning knife for an eight-inch chef's, and Cloud got to work.

The resultant masterpiece was ready five minutes before the deadline. Cloud received a kiss on the cheek, a manly handshake, and one very rewarding lip-lock when it took first place.


	22. Share and Share Alike

**Title: ** Share and Share Alike**  
Characters: ** Cloud and Denzel**  
Prompt: ** Denzel's friend envying his father/son relationship with Cloud.

Denzel began to realize something was wrong one evening after Cloud spotted him playing in the park, and stopped to offer him a ride home on Fenrir. Of course he'd jumped at the chance – what self-respecting boy wouldn't? – but as he'd waved goodbye, he'd noticed that his friend Ben's response was half-hearted. A few days later, when for show-and-tell he talked about his wolf ring pendant, Ben's expression became decidedly sullen.

Slowly, over the next few weeks, Denzel became aware that every time he mentioned Cloud, Ben would withdraw or change the subject. At first, he thought maybe the other boy held a grudge against AVALANCHE – Denzel had once thought the group was responsible for his parents' deaths, so it didn't seem at all far-fetched that Ben might be resentful. Yet Ben was always friendly and, well, _normal_ when Denzel mentioned Tifa, so that theory didn't make sense.

It was Marlene who suggested that maybe the other boy was jealous. "Ben doesn't have a dad," she'd stated quite simply, "and you've got _Cloud_." Her tone made it clear that having a father-figure at all would be enough to make some people explode with envy, and that it only added insult to injury that Denzel's was someone as well known and admired and flat-out _cool_ as Cloud.

As the weather turned cooler, and night came earlier, Denzel began to fear that Marlene was right. As was typical of boys, he and Ben stayed out as late as their guardians would allow, resulting in Cloud fetching him home more often. Ben would huff and cross his arms, becoming increasingly truculent and bitter, until finally he didn't even bother to say goodbye before running home when Fenrir's familiar bulk appeared. Disturbed, Denzel spent the drive home lost in thought, wondering how he could fix things between them. Ben was his best friend – or at least his best _male_ friend – and it hurt that they weren't getting along. Especially since he knew firsthand how hard it was to lose your parents. Denzel had lost everything before Cloud found him at the church; at least Ben still had his mother.

Bringing the bike to a smooth halt behind the bar, Cloud killed the engine but paused before dismounting. "Is everything alright, Denzel?" he asked, voice calm and assured despite the thread of concern.

Denzel hesitated, and then shook his head where it rested against Cloud's strong, broad back. "Ben is upset with me. Marlene thinks he's jealous."

Turning his head, Cloud peered back at the boy with curious eyes. "Oh?"

"Yeah." His own gaze still focused on Cloud's sword harness, Denzel spared a quick glance up, and was reassured by the patience reflected on the man's face. "Ben... Ben doesn't have a dad," he offered as explanation.

Blond eyebrows shot up in surprise, blue eyes widening slightly, although whether at the implication that Denzel thought of him as a father, or at the information that Ben came from a single-parent home, the boy didn't know. "I see," he commented quietly, standing and swinging his leg over the bike before offering a supporting hand for Denzel so slide off as well. "Ben's friendship is important to you, isn't it?" he half-stated, half-asked, as they walked together toward the door.

Denzel nodded again, scuffing a foot across the ground dejectedly. "He's my best friend," he answered.

Cloud returned the gesture. "You know... my father died when I was a baby," he confided, causing Denzel's gaze to dart up to his face. "It was... difficult, sometimes, growing up without him." Half turning, one hand on the doorknob, he placed his other on Denzel's shoulder. "I always hoped one of the other boys would... I don't know... share. Invite me along on trips to the movies or even just around to the hardware store." His hand flexed, squeezing reassuringly. "You're a good friend, Denzel. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Shouldering the door open, he ushered the boy inside first, a small smile flitting around his mouth at the look of happy comprehension spreading over the smaller features.

And the next time Cloud stopped by the park to offer Denzel a ride home, he had to make room for two small boys rather than one.


	23. Where the Heart Is

Title: Where the Heart Is  
Rating: K  
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa: Home- Where ever she was... so was home.  
Summary: Cloud's lived in a number of places, but never understood what made a home. Until now.

When Cloud was a child, he thought a home was simply the place where you lived. The place where you slept and ate and (in his case) dreamed big dreams about the girl next door. His was just a house, nothing more, and not even a particularly special one: it wasn't big or impressive like the Shinra Manor, or fancy on the inside like the mayor's.

He was positive that he'd be just as happy living somewhere else.

At age fourteen, after he'd left that little house in Nibelheim to join Shin-Ra, he had a rude awakening. The Shin-Ra barracks were a far cry from home, despite being the place where he slept and ate and dreamed big dreams about the girl he'd left behind. Home was suddenly a word he associated with the scent of fresh-baked bread and his mom's comforting presence, with well-worn furniture that had shrunk as he'd grown, and with walls that had slowly become too small to hold his ambitions. Home was a little mountain village, often too insular for its own good, and he missed it.

Seven years later, in the midst of saving the world and rediscovering himself in the process, he also found that his perception of home had changed once more. For him, home was no longer a place at all, but a person... and somehow, he didn't find that surprising in the least. His thoughts of home had always been twined with thoughts of her, of Tifa. That little house in Nibelheim wouldn't have been the same if she hadn't lived next door; the town itself wouldn't have been the same without her in it. Now she'd simply become the whole, the embodiment, rather than a fixture.

Seventh Heaven, a place he associated with the mingled scents of fruit and alcohol and industrial strength cleaner; with walls that were worn but strong, and furniture that was sturdy rather than elegant; with rooms large enough to hold the laughter and pranks of two small children, as well as the hopes of all four occupants... that was where he lived. But home...

Home was the look in her burgundy-lit eyes when he walked in the door, and the sound of his name on her lips. Home was the way her dark hair spread over his shoulder to spill onto his pillow, and the feel of her hand in his. Home was lithe muscles and a fighter's spirit, and a heart brave enough to hold on, to have faith in him, when he, himself, had given up.

Home was in the curve of her mouth and the scold in her voice when he caved in the face of childish pleading. Home was in the laughter she suppressed when he lost himself in something both typically him and typically male.

Home was in the sweetness of her kiss and the warmth of her embrace and the passion in her body when they came together.

Tifa was his home. Wherever she was.

The distant sound of the faucet, followed by the rush of small feet in the hallway, broke Cloud out of his musings. It was late, and he had no idea how long he'd been sitting on the foot of the bed, watching Tifa sleep. Long enough for his hair to have mostly dried from his shower and his toes to have chilled. Lifting the covers he slid in beside her, gathering her warm, willing form close. Her head came to rest in the curve of his throat, and her voice was drowsy – still mostly asleep – as she murmured a soft greeting.

"Welcome home."


	24. The Barter System

**Title: **The Barter System  
**Pairing:** Cloud/Tifa  
**Rating:** G

Maybe it was jealousy that made her do it. Maybe it was the imp of the perverse, who seemed to enjoy throwing wrenches (or flower girls) into her relationship with Cloud. Maybe it was temporary insanity, brought on by watching the chocobos _dance_.

Whatever the reason, when Cloud reached for the materia the birds had given her, Tifa shook her head and put her hands behind her back. "What'll you give me for it?" she asked, peering through her lashes at his surprised expression. Long out of practice at flirting, she hoped she didn't sound as awkward as she felt.

Much to her disappointment, Cloud responded by cocking his head in confusion, looking uncannily like the chocobos gathered around them.

Tifa managed to hold her smile and coquettish posture through sheer determination, despite a sudden urge to smack him for being dense. She really shouldn't blame him for being bewildered: blatantly teasing overtures were Aerith's thing, not hers.

Darn it.

After considering her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched into a slight smile, and that glowing blue gaze darkened with understanding. "Hmmm. I suppose that depends on what you want," he replied, voice just a bit deeper than usual.

Was it completely stupid and girlish for the sound to spawn butterflies in her stomach?

"Well..." pretending to think seriously about her answer, Tifa wondered if he could hear the anxious beating of her heart, "I think a kiss would be a fair trade."

"A kiss?" He moved closer, gloved hands settling at her waist as she nodded. "Just one?"

There was a teasingly wistful note in his voice that gave her another little boost of confidence

"I've never done this before," she confessed, still watching him from beneath her lashes, and was gratified to feel his hands tighten and pull her closer still. Biting her lip, she raised her gaze from his chest to his face, her expression deliberately innocent. "Do you think it might be worth more than one?"

Both corners of Cloud's mouth were smiling as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. "It might be worth less," he answered, and if the words were cocky and confident, his voice was soft, tone teasing. "You should probably decide for yourself."

Her nervousness completely faded, Tifa fought to suppress the laughter struggling to escape. "Are... are you offering me a free sample?"

"I want you to be sure you're getting a good deal." His tone strove for earnest, even as his fingers tilted her chin to let the words play against her lips. "It's a limited offer, good for one customer only." And although the press of their mouths was slight – not quite kissing, not yet – he could still feel her smile at his oblique reassurance.

"Then how can I refuse?"

The almost inaudible question, little more than a faint exhale, was all the go ahead he needed.

Long minutes later, Tifa was certain there wasn't a materia (or anything else) on the planet that could measure up to one of Cloud's kisses.

"You can have the materia," she murmured when they came up for air, "but I think I'm getting the better end of the deal."

Closing his hands over hers where they were fisted in his shirt, Cloud gave a low chuckle. "We'll have to find it again, first," he answered.

Unrepentant – it had been far more important to touch _him_ than to hold on to a glassy rock – Tifa nudged the little orb with her foot, sending it rolling off into the grass.

"Kiss me again, and I'll help you look."


	25. Every Way That He Can

**Title: ** Every Way That He Can  
**Rating:** T  
**Warnings: ** Innuendo, allusions to sex  
**Prompt: ** Final Fantasy VII, Cloud/Tifa: Reassurance - He was never going to leave again, he wanted to make sure that she knew it.  
**Summary:** All the ways he tells her, and the one that makes her believe.

* * *

He told her with words.

Everyday, over and over, letting repetition make them a vow.

The phrases he used were simple, their meaning in the subtext rather than in concrete promises or explanations – although he'd given her those, too, more than once. And although she had needed to hear him say, outright, that he would never leave again... the small ways in which he reaffirmed it were just as important.

He never failed to tell her goodbye before leaving, usually adding that he'd be home for dinner, that he would see her later. He never returned without announcing he was home. If he was going to be late, he called to tell her; if he was going to be early, he called to ask if there was anything she needed. His voice wishing her good morning and good night bracketed her days.

He told her with actions.

Overnight trips became the exception rather than the norm. Once a week he took a day off to spend with her and the kids, and if necessary would turn away business to keep that one day free.

More often than not he answered his phone, and could be counted upon to return her calls if asked. Sometimes, even if unasked.

When the kids needed new clothes, he volunteered to take Denzel shopping; when they went for a health check and their required inoculations, he let Marlene sit in his lap. After, Tifa wasn't sure whether the girl or the man had been more afraid of the needle.

Quietly but consciously, continually and repeatedly, he made a point of living _with_ them, rather than merely sharing a house.

Perhaps most surprisingly, most significantly of all, _he decorated his room. _With help from both Denzel and Marlene, he painted the sunlit wall blue and the other three a more neutral gray. Shelves went up to hold various odds and ends, and his workspace was expanded with a larger desk. Fenrir's spare parts were moved to the garage – including the tire he'd had in there for _ages_ – and a rug found to cover the floor. For the first time it became a space to live in, to spend time in, rather than an overlarge storage room. The only thing he didn't change or replace was the cot in the corner, and Tifa thought there was a message there, too. One that stated that while the space was his, it was not his bedroom. Not for much longer.

It gave her pleasant little tingles to think about.

He told her through touch.

Innocently: twining their fingers together when walking side-by-side, or letting his palm ride the small of her back; brushing her arm to get her attention, or briefly squeezing her hand in silent commiseration over a shared but unspoken frustration.

Tellingly: the lingering press of his body and hands when he helped the kids tickle her into submission; the way he tugged her close under the curve of his arm when the opportunity presented itself; his tendency to thread his fingers through her hair while they talked.

Passionately: with kisses that left her breathless and pining, nimble fingers that stroked and caressed her to madness, a body that filled, sheltered and satisfied hers in every way. He made love to her for hours, until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Until she was exhausted and boneless, clingy and pliant, and he bundled her close in his embrace to sleep it off.

He told her with his eyes, emotions both soft and possessive ebbing and flowing and shifting within their depths. He told her with the silent, unassuming way he provided things she and the kids needed, often before the need was even fully realized.

He told her with flowers on her birthday – chocolate daisies from the mountains, her longtime favorite. There was a vase of them in the kitchen and a fistful on her pillow, the sweet scent a much more pleasant way to greet the morning than the blaring of her alarm.

Each word and every gesture, each hungry touch and heated glance helped soothe the pain and worry away... until finally he banished it altogether with a thin mithril band crowned with a single diamond. Drowsy and content, sated and sleepy from his attentions, she made no protest when he slipped it over her finger. There were no words, because by that time it was understood, even expected.

And it wasn't the fact that he'd given her a ring or the promise it signified that erased her last lingering doubts. She didn't need a ring to know that he loved her. She didn't need it to know he was committed. What she had always needed was to believe he understood that they were stronger together. That there would be no more misguided sacrifices, no more attempts to protect his family by leaving them – by leaving her – behind. _This_ ring gave her that, when another would not have. _This _ring had belonged to his mother, and was the only thing he had left of her. To Cloud, it signified home and family and acceptance – all things he'd found in Tifa. With Tifa. The loss of the woman who'd worn it had pushed him to stand against Sephiroth; Tifa wearing it reaffirmed his will and ability to withstand anything and everyone else.

So she knew -- unequivocally -- that he really had stopped running.


	26. Deduction

**Title: **Deduction  
**Characters: **Cloud/Tifa, Yuffie  
**Rating: **K  
**Prompt: **For ffvii_100 on InsaneJournal. First word/Last word.

"Owwwwww."

Yuffie's protest earned her another jab in the ribs from a booted foot.

"Get up."

Ok... that was Cloud. Voice uninflected, yet still annoyed.

_How's he **do** that?_

"Yuffie. Get up."

Where was she, anyway? Somewhere hard and flat. Chilly, too. The floor?

"She must have snuck in late last night." That was Tifa, tone amused yet exasperated.

_Cloud... Tifa... sneaking..._

The bar! She was in the bar.

At least the floor would be clean.

Another nudge had her flinching away and forcing herself upright.

That's when the headache registered and the real pain began.

"Owwwwww!"


	27. Doomsday Device?

**Title: **Doomsday Device?  
**Author:** sekiharatae  
**Rating:** G  
**Prompt:** Cloud/Tifa: Something new - What the hell kind of anniversary gift had Yuffie given them?  
**Warnings:** None  
**A/N:** I hadn't originally planned to write anything for this round, but nobody else had taken this prompt (so it looked lonely...?)

They found it on the kitchen counter one Sunday morning, with a large white bow on top and a card from Yuffie encouraging them to "Enjoy!"

As it resembled nothing so much as an upside-down bullmotor cast in stainless steel, Cloud was hard-pressed not to give in to his first impulse, and smash it with one of his swords. Preferably into many, many pieces. Before it exploded, or shot them with the little metal spikes dotting its surface, or spit caustic oil out of the nozzle at the bottom.

Grabbing the bar's hand-held, Tifa dialed the little ninja to find out exactly why she'd left them a monument to one of Corel Prison's less memorable monsters.

"So, do you like it?" Yuffie answered after the second ring, skipping the traditional greeting once she saw the caller ID.

"That depends," Tifa said, cautiously, "on what it is."

"Your anniversary gift!" The ninja's tone made it clear that this should have been obvious.

"Oh. Well, thank you." That at least explained the bow.

"Don't get so excited," Yuffie complained, sounding at once annoyed and hurt, "it only cost most of a weekly paycheck."

Tifa frowned at the strange, spiky sphere, confused anew as to its purpose. Even if Yuffie was exaggerating – and she probably was – she still must have spent a fair amount of gil on this... whatever it was. "Really Yuffie, thank you," she said, striving to sound sincerely thrilled.

Cloud folded his arms and gestured for the phone with one hand, brows lowered in impatience. Waving him off, she mouthed at him to let her handle it.

"You shouldn't have gone to the trouble, though, really."

"Celebrating my best friend's first anniversary is no trouble!" Bubbly humor restored, Yuffie was all bouncy excitement again. "So when are you going to use it?"

"We haven't decided yet." Biting her lip, Tifa tilted her head to examine the gift from a different angle, but found its mysterious purpose no more apparent than before. "It's just..." she paused, swallowed, started again, "You see, Yuffie..."

Leaning in, Cloud wrapped his hand over hers to angle the phone toward himself. "We don't know what it is or what it does," he announced flatly, "but it looks like it could blow up if we get too close."

Silence, and then Tifa was pulling the receiver away from her ear, allowing Yuffie's loud, ungracious guffawing to ring out, only slightly muffled due to the connection. It took several minutes for her to calm down, and then – still chortling, she gasped a short explanation:

"It's an espresso machine. Duh!"

* * *

The item in this fic is real. It's an espresso machine made by Saeco. I found it by doing a search for bizarre kitchen appliances, after my search for bizarre sex toys gave me nothing story inspiring.


	28. Back In the Fold

Hello all!

In the time since I left, the Literate Union has had a huge turn over in members - many leaving because they didn't like the program or the way their leader handled the upset and response - and implemented a new policy on automated complaint reporting. Any policing they're going to do they have to do by manually entering their complaint, and I figure they're bound to get sick of it. So I decided to bring everything except my MA stories back. Those truly are against the TOS, so I'm going to leave them on AO3. (Link is on my profile.)

Ironically, I never managed to get Day to Day moved - I ran out of steam and the the holidays arrived and it just... didn't happen. Lots of reasons but... it didn't happen. I think, however, that I'm going to split Day to Day back into the individual stories it actually is - makes it much easier to keep track of what's where that way. I'm sorry in advance for any confusion that brings - I won't be doing it right away (I still have more stuff to bring back), so let me know if you strenuously object, and I'll reconsider.

Lastly, I did write my version of the 'under the highwind' scene while I was gone. It's smut, so it's posted on AO3... and I would dearly love some feedback. ;)

-Tae


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